The Stars Alone
by Darth Marrs
Summary: Sequel to Broken Chains. Every choice has a consequence. Every action has a price. Their financial empire lost, their allies turned against them for crimes they actually did commit, Harry, Hermione and Luna are exiled from Earth. The Goa'uld have no idea what is about to hit them, because the stars alone know how far they will go.
1. Momento Mori

**The Stars Alone**

A Harry Potter/Stargate Fanfic (with lightsabers)

A Sequel to **Broken Chains**

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as my absolute lack of material wealth can attest to. This story was written without intent to profit or infringe upon the original properties or their respective interests and owners. This story presupposes that you have at least an idea of what happened in **Broken Chains**. It's not absolutely necessary to have read it, but it will help explain why Harry, Hermione and Luna have lightsabers and the Force (not to mention why there _is_ a Harry, Hermione and Luna), and why Harry is so utterly, ridiculously powerful and not always very nice. More importantly, if you really hated **Broken Chains** then you'll have a good chance of really hating this, which will save you the trouble of reading any of it, and save me the trouble of having to read your complaints about it.

 **Part One: Reaping What is Sown**

 **Chapter One: Memento Mori**

 _Ministry of Magic, London, June 12, 1997_

"The body was cursed after she was dead," the magical coroner said.

Kingsley Shacklebolt stood perfectly still and tried his best not to look down at the desecrated body of his former partner. Nymphadora Tonks for him was the very best Hogwarts had to offer—smart and loyal to a fault, fast and powerful enough to hold her own against most foes. She'd had a very hard time since the last summer, he knew, but she was still an outstanding Auror and a lovely person.

Now she was reduced to a cadaver with a blackened, gaping hole where her chest used to be. Her skin had a chalky pallor of death, though he could see bruising gathering at the back where blood had settled.

"How can you tell?"

"No bleeding." The healer who acted as the DMLE coroner shrugged. "And see the cuts and bruising from her fall? No bleeding there either to speak off. Her heart wasn't beating when this curse hit her. But most importantly is that there is no sign of the Bonham Effect at all."

Kingsley raised one brow at this single, most telling aspect of his friend's death. Named for Mungo Bonham, the founder of St. Mungos who discovered it, the Bonham Effect was the result of a witch or wizard's magical core trying to resist a lethal or offensive curse. It usually resulted in a shattering of the witch's or wizard's bone marrow, where it was commonly accepted the magical core was charged from.

If there was no Bonham Effect from the blasting curse evidenced in Tonks's bones, it meant her magical core did not resist the curse. That was the clearest and most telling indication she was already dead.

"Thank you, Cal. Write up your report, but make it to the Minister's eyes only. We need to keep this under wraps."

"I understand, Kingsley."

Kingsley left the basement of the DMLE and went back to the Minister's office where he found Amelia Bones contemplating a tumbler of Cognac. "Sit," she said the moment he walked in.

"Tonks was already dead when that blasting curse hit her," Shacklebolt said as he sank into the chair opposite her. "There was no Bonham Effect at all, so whatever killed her was not magical. The CE says there's no way to say what did kill her for sure, though, because of the post-mortem damage."

"What was she doing there, Shack?" Bones asked without preamble.

Kingsley sighed tiredly. "She and Dumbledore were trying to find a horcrux. He asked her specifically to help, though, because he wanted her to reform the Order of the Phoenix."

He sat perfectly still as Amelia looked up and glared. "I ordered it shut down."

"He wanted to reform it because of Potter, Minister. He warned me, and I presume he warned Tonks, that Harry was dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than You-Know-Who."

"You think Potter killed her?"

"Him, or maybe one of his women," Shack said. "It's been remarked that Granger has become just as dark as he has. But if it has been a Death Eater who killed her, her death would have been by magic."

"Then we're going to have to…what the devil was that?" Amelia half-rose from her desk while Shacklebolt did the same, pulling his wand as he did so. A moment later the door opened and a wide-eyed young Auror fresh out of the academy rushed in. "Minister, he's here! He blasted through the main entrance with an army of Death Eaters!"

There was no need to ask who "he" was. Blanching, Amelia tapped her wand to her forehead, pulled out a stream of thought and memory, and stored it in a glass phial she pulled from one of her desk drawers. She opened a cabinet drawer and placed it inside.

Shacklebolt watched without a word until she was done, and then followed as she led the way out of her office toward the DMLE, where loyal aurors and hitwizards were engaged in a full-out battle in the halls of the DMLE with a line of black-robed wizards.

"Morgana," Bones muttered.

Before she could say more, HE arrived. Amelia could feel his power from across the atrium as he _floated_ a foot off the ground, black robes billowing behind him in an invisible wind. He looked like a pale-skinned dementor as he approached the line of fighters. He raised his hands— _without a wand_ —and suddenly a torrent of white lightning flashed across the line of defenders. Men and women screamed in agony as they were blown clean off their feet.

"Dumbledore was wrong," Bones muttered. "Potter's not anywhere this bad. _Avada Kedavra!"_

The fact the Minister was willing to cast a killing curse did not surprise Shacklebolt. During the first war Amelia was one of the most capable and ruthless aurors in Crouch's force. What surprised Kingsley was the ease with which Voldemort blocked the curse. He smiled—the monster actually smiled—at the sight of the killing magic flying at him. The air before him shimmered as he wandlessly conjured a steel plate which absorbed the magic.

Instantly he banished it again, all the while continuing to float toward the Minister. "Dear Amelia," he said. His voice sounded raw and terrible, as if his vocal cords had been shredded. "So nice to be welcomed. We are going to have such interesting times, you and I. Although, I have no need for your helper."

Shacklebolt's last sight on Earth was the flash of green before his eyes.

 _International Confederation of Wizards, Enforcer Division,_

 _Geneva, Switzerland, October 3_ _rd_ _, 2002_

Mage General Stefan Andropolous stepped into his office for the first time since assuming command of the newly established ICW Enforcement Division.

The idea of an ICW military unit used to be anathema. Andropolous was a young man of twenty during the last Great War that ravaged Europe. Like many, he fought against the Nazi's and their wizard collaborators. After, while the Muggle nations met to decide the future of their world, wizards gathered at the ICW to decide theirs. The American wizards pushed for an international peacekeeping body of hitwizards, and to this day Andropolous could remember the harsh cries deriding such an idea.

Fifty years later, the idea was presented by the youngest Chief Mugwump in history, the war hero Harry Potter. Andropolous once again expected the loud chorus of voices to shout the idea down. However, the chorus never came.

On further reflection, Andropolous should have known better.

After half a century of leadership under the enigmatic, powerful and secretive Albus Dumbledore, Potter was more than a breath of fresh air. The young, powerful wizards was a walking hurricane of change. Not only did he single-handedly save magical Europe from the goblins; not only did he defeat the most powerful Dark Lord ever to darken the world, but he did so using his own personal funds to raise an army.

When Potter made the rounds before each day's session, Androlopous watched as a simple shake of the hands and a brief touch of a witch or wizard's shoulders was enough to make the representative stand taller somehow, as if his approval were the most important thing to them. Nor could Andropolous condemn his fellows for the feeling. Potter's magic was _intoxicating_. When he moved into your presence, it felt as if you were standing on the edge of something greater than yourself, and the sheer intensity the young man projected left Andropolous feeling breathless and jittery. It was hard not to get caught up in his cult of personality.

Even the newly elected Deputy Mugwump, Diego Ramirez, appeared swept up in Potter's charisma, which considering that Ramirez was rumored to be as powerful as Dumbledore and twice as smart, was truly saying something.

So, when Potter asked for a permanent force of witches and wizards to serve as peacekeepers in order to ensure no dark lord or goblin army ever brought the magical world to its knees again, he got his wish. The mandate looked especially altruistic when Potter insisted that the Supreme Mugwump only assume command in the event the ICW-elected commander was killed or incapacitated, and then only for 90 days before a new commander was elected. On the surface, it appeared Potter crafted a mandate to ensure he himself could never command the enforcers directly.

With his experience of being a former Colonel in the Muggle Greek army and thirty years as the Greek Director of Magical Law Enforcement, Stefan Andropolous was named Mage General of the Enforcers Division of the ICW, given a budget on par with what most individual Ministries had, and a host of volunteer aurors and hitwizards from around the world to train.

Training could wait until tomorrow. For today, the administration needed to be set up. Even the office space granted to the Enforces Division was an act of beneficence from Potter, being the former office of the Supreme Mugwump himself. Potter pointedly offered the large suite of offices and commented that his own administrative requirements were much more streamlined than his predecessor, which raised more than a few laughs from the many wizards and wizards who absolutely detested Dumbledore. Dumbledore's old offices at the ICW in fact had lain empty since his death.

Andropolous placed his box of personal belongings—primarily pictures of his wife, kids and grandkids, on the large mahogany desk and looked around at the office which once belonged to Albus Dumbledore. His first thought was that it was needlessly large, and determined that he was going to have a wall installed to create a smaller office for his aide de camp.

He saw a line of wooden filing cabinets against one wall, while directly behind his desk were a wide set of windows that looked out over a beautiful meadow of green grass and trees, while Lake Geneva glittered in the background. It was a beautiful scene; especially impressive considering the office was a hundred feet underground.

Two of his lieutenants walked in levitating his files. "Shall we put them in your cabinets, sir?" young Kanahoff said.

"Yes, please."

Kanahoff, a French-German Muggleborn from Canada, levitated his box to the cabinets with his fellow lieutenant right behind him. The two young wizards began to place the files into the cabinets. Each file was a public biography and contact information for each of the Ministers and leaders of each ICW signatory Ministry of Magic—a must-have for a politically charged position such as his.

"Sir, there's something in this cabinet."

Andropolous straightened with a frown. "Potter assured me the cabinets were empty. Step away, gentlemen. It's always best to be vigilant." The two men stepped back, wands at the ready, while Andropolous cast a diagnostic spell at the cabinet itself. The results surprised him.

"Kanahoff, have you seen a charm matrix like that before?"

"No, sir."

"I have, Mage General," the second Lieutenant, a Bulgarian, said. "My Grand Nana had a cabinet that had a similar matrix. It was a vanishing cabinet."

"Indeed, that's exactly what this is," Andropolous said. "It was not unusual for a ministry and its ICW representative to have matched vanishing cabinets for quick communications. Of course, now the offices have magic-hardened wiring for telephones, and I understand Potter's people are working on magic-hardened computers as well. Interesting." Andropolous levitated the object out, and was surprised to see what he immediately identified as a _pensieve_ memory held within a glass phial.

"Quick, lads, get me a pensieve. There should be one two doors down!"

Both lieutenants ran full tilt, and returned moments later with a pensive held between them. The ancient device was as heavy as a man, and could not be levitated without risking its own considerable enchantments. Andropolous barely had the memory over the stone bowl when the conjured phial simply vanished, and the memory floated gently down into the swirling silver of the device.

"It was a conjured phial," he explained to his two lieutenants. "It must have taken a powerful witch or wizard for it to last as long as it did. So, shall we see what it is? Perhaps we will get to see one of Dumbledore's last memories before he was murdered by the Dark Witch Bellatrix Lestrange."

The three men dipped their heads into the pensieve. When they emerged a minute later, eyes-wide and faces pale, they looked at each as if they were standing in a completely different world.

Andropolous was the first to speak. "Both of you, listen and listen well. You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone. If you doubt your resolve, I will obliviate you for your own safety. No one, and I mean NO ONE, can know about this, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" both young men said sharply. Kanahoff added, "Sir, what are we going to do?"

"We?"

"We're with you, no matter what, sir," the Bulgarian, Krum, said.

 _Giza, Egypt, February 12, 2003_

"We've followed Dr. Langford's original notes." The project lead, Bill Weasley, wiped the sweat and dust from his forehead as spoke. "And this is exactly what you said you were looking for."

Weasley stood atop the edge of the excavation site, with the pyramids rising up in ancient splendor behind them. At his side, Captain Carl Kanahoff looked on with a nod. In the recently dug pit they could see a stone frame that once obviously housed something large and circular, but which was now gone.

Weasley hopped down into the pit, which was now empty after he sent his people back to their tents once the excavation was done. Bill bent down and with his wand started pointing out the ancient rune matrix. "From what my brothers told me, this is the same ward matrix Hermione Potter used to help the Chief Mugwump catch Voldemort at the end. How the hell did you people know about this?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but that is rather need to know."

Weasley looked around the stone frame, took his hat and dusted it against his thigh, and said, "Look, Kanahoff. This entire dig has been wonky. Langford was a Muggle. Yes, he managed to find clues regarding the old Ra rebellion myths, and his daughter continued his research, but that was seventy years ago. We didn't need to recreate the dig to find these runes—they were available in books."

Kanahoff pursed his lips as he considered the eldest Weasley son. "Bill, between you and me, what do you think of Harry Potter?"

"I think he's a dangerous, murdering bastard," Bill said without hesitation. "The son of a bitch mind-raped an auror friend of my brother Charlie's who later died under mysterious circumstances, and I'm convinced he's the one who started the damned goblin war in the first place."

Kanahoff looked up and around, eyes narrowed. "Those are opinions you should not voice in the open, Mr. Weasley."

"Why, think Potter's going to hear me from Egypt?"

"Yes, actually, he might," Kanahoff said grimly. "We're done here. Please have your men fill the dig back in. And then...then I think it is time you met your sponsor."

 _Puma Punku_ , _Tiahuanaco, Chile, November 14_ _th_ _, 2003_

Lieutenant Bill Weasley of the ICW Enforcers Division stood on the edge of an exposed megalithic rock foundation from an ancient temple of a long-dead civilization. There was no treasure here, nor magic.

That, Bill knew, was a problem. Puma Punku was known to rest on a cross of _ley_ lines and should have been absolutely saturated in magic. In fact, Bill remembered that when he visited the site in his first year as an apprentice curse breaker he almost broke out in a sweat from just the raw magic in the air.

Now…nothing. It was as if the whole area had been utterly drained of magic.

"Sir, we found blood traces!"

Bill looked at the speaker—one of ten Enforcers assigned to him for this research mission. He walked over to the section of stone the man was working on, but of course he could not see anything with his naked eye.

"I found traces too," a witch further away said.

"Positive traces here, too!" One by one, all ten witches and wizards reported trace amounts of blood. Bill himself cast the auror forensic charm and saw the blood traces like little bits of gold shining on the stone. They were miniscule and far apart—mute evidence that someone attempted to clean the stone. But the fact that they reacted to the charm indicated they were less than five years old. Moreover, the traces were everywhere, covering the entire stone basin in mute evidence of what could only have been a literal bloodbath.

"That's it, then," Bill said, not even bothering to hide his fear. None of the Enforces knew exactly why they were looking for blood in the desert, nor would they ever find out. But in Bill's pocket was a copy of a letter written by a former classmate of Harry's who managed to break a powerful memory charm, and whose very act of confession breached an Unbreakable Vow that led to her death. In effect, she committed suicide in order to confess what happened. If word got out too early, there would be hell to pay. "Pack it up, we've found what we needed. Portkey launches in five minutes."

 _Wainfleet All Saints, England, January 6_ _th_ _, 2004_

"Well, he certainly seemed convincing, and though we can't exactly advertise it, from what I understand we have had a significant tax revenue spike from the inclusion of your kind."

The speaker was none other than former Prime Minister John Cochran, who was vacationing at his family home after recently losing his position as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and Northern Ireland.

Interviewing him was Mage General Stefan Andropolous, dressed wholly Muggle for the occasion, and the Deputy Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Diego Ramirez. It was Ramirez who leaned forward to pierce the Muggle with his gaze. "It is necessary for us to be clear, Mr. Cochran. You are telling us both that it was Harry Potter who came to you and requested British military assets to be used against the Goblin bank Gringotts. Is that the case?"

Cochran pursed his lips, realizing perhaps how serious the question was. He could not lie, however much he wanted to, because of the mild dose of _veritaserum_ Androlopous had sprayed in the air. A concentrated drop of the potion could have killed the Prime Minister, but an aerosol spray worked with minimal risk.

"That is correct," the former PM said. "Mr. Potter used a laser scope to direct heavy ordinance to a target in the center of London, which was later identified as a goblin stronghold. Because of that strike, Potter assured me he was able to destroy the goblin threat, free your economy from the gold standard, and was able to make several millions of pounds of contributions to the party."

Ramirez stood and walked out of the library, face blank. Andropolous also stood. "Thank you, sir, for your time today. _Obliviate!_ "

The Mage General heard the pop of the Deputy Mugwump apparating away and followed suit a second later. A minute after, John Cochran recovered from his fugue state, blinked and stared about him in confusion before picking up where he last remembered reading from his spy thriller.

 _Ministry of Magic, London, England, February 2nd, 2004_

Senior Undersecretary of Magic Arthur Weasley sat behind his desk in the Ministry of Magic with a soul-weary sigh.

He shouldn't have been so weary—his salary was higher now than he ever dreamed. He was able to build his Molly the house he believed she always deserved, and she enjoyed the trappings of power to be certain. He had seven healthy, successful children and two grandchildren already. He had certainly achieved every goal and hope he had when he was younger.

So why was he so tired?

 _Because you don't matter anymore_.

That small, nagging voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Gideon Prewett had been hounding him of late. Gideon never liked Arthur and never considered him good enough for his little sister, Molly. Nor had he hesitated to share his opinions. For the past thirty years of marriage, his self-doubt always assumed a voice like Gideon's.

However, when he finally faced the thought openly, he realized that he truly did not matter. The Ministry of Magic belonged wholly, and without any question, to a boy of only twenty-four years of age. Worse yet, with the sole except of his eldest son Bill, who was vocal about his dislike of the Minister, every other one of his children belonged heart and soul to that same boy.

Harry Potter.

Arthur remembered like it was yesterday sitting down for breakfast with his family, only to discover a painfully shy newcomer at his table. Harry always seemed like such a wonderful, loving child.

When he fell through the Veil of Death at the Ministry, Arthur held Molly for hours while she cried for the boy, and then held Ginny while she did the same. When Harry came back, it seemed like the greatest miracle, only for that miracle to be dashed by the terrible reality. Harry came back as a monster.

What he did to Tonks…Arthur shook his head. The _legillimancy_ attack against Tonks should have landed Harry in Azkaban for life. It was as good as an Unforgiveable. But Harry was the Chosen One, and Dumbledore could not afford to put the one destined to kill Voldemort into a prison to rot away. So instead they brought in Harry's and Ron's friend Hermione, and it seemed as if she had saved his soul.

The fact they then began a not-very-secret liaison with Xeno Lovegood's flaky girl made their morals questionable, but still not evil.

After Voldemort took the Ministry and murdered poor Amelia Bones and her niece Susan, among many other of Arthur's friends, Harry somehow managed to get the Crown to appoint him as Minister of Magic, and he never looked back. Arthur, like the rest, was simply caught up in his wake as Harry ruthlessly destroyed Voldemort using Muggle weapons of all things! He continued to run his company, employing almost all of Arthur's children in various capacities, while ruling magical England with an iron fist. Arthur held the position he did solely because of the friendship his children had with the young Minister.

Harry didn't rule just England, though. After defeating Voldemort and saving much of Europe from the Goblins in their last, most violent revolt, Harry was appointed Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. He essentially ran the magical world.

If he were to be honest with himself, Arthur had to admit some of Harry's initiatives were good. All ICW-accredited schools did not just teach a course about Muggles anymore, but in fact taught Muggle academic subjects in addition to the magical subjects, and all students were required to take these courses, and then take the appropriate standard examinations for their Muggle countries. The Purebloods fought against the rules, but Harry was an unstoppable machine, and the fight was for naught. Arthur, personally, approved of the initiative.

Potter forced through legislation both in England and abroad declaring the use of Dementors in prisons illegal torture, and led a personal crusade to destroy the demons. That was an exceedingly popular law, really, and the pictures of him personally destroying the demons was plastered across every magical paper in the world.

However, some of his other initiatives were not so nice. For instance, for the past year Arthur Weasley paid taxes. The decision to slowly introduce Muggle taxes was controversial to say the least, especially since Potter required all Ministry employees to be the first to pay. So, Arthur Weasley was registered with Inland Revenue, and now paid taxes on his salary. He knew that future steps would include participation in the social security plan the Muggles maintained. They would not pay for medical, though, given the magical community had its own system.

Most frightening of all was Potter's latest proposal to first condition Muggles to the possible existence of magic over the coming years with popular media works, leading up to the revelation of the magical world.

Really, it was too much, too soon. Harry might have been the youngest self-made trillionaire in history; the youngest Minister for Magic in England; and the youngest Supreme Mugwump in the world, but he just pushed too much, too hard, too quickly. It made men like Arthur feel as if they simply did not matter.

At the sound of a knock, he looked up to see his eldest son standing at his door with a warm smile. "Hello, Dad."

"Bill!" Arthur said, pleased despite his melancholy thoughts. He jumped up to greet his eldest. "What a wonderful surprise! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was in the building and thought I would say hello," Bill said. He accepted the hug his father gave him and the two men settled back in, with Bill closing the door behind him. "How are you and Mum?"

"Oh, we're doing well enough," Arthur said. "Are you coming by the Burrow later? Your mum would love to have you."

"No, I have to get back to France soon," Bill said. "Actually, I just came to give you this." Bill reached into his robes and removed an envelope. "Don't open it until you're home, though."

"What is it?"

"An invitation to a tea tonight. I'll be there, and Fleur. Plus a few others you might recognize."

"Should I tell Molly to dress up then?"

"Sorry, Dad, but Mum can't come."

Arthur paused and stared hard at his eldest son. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean just that, Dad." Bill was always an earnest boy, and earnestness now shone through his eyes. "I love Mum as much as anyone of us, but we both know she couldn't keep a secret even if all our lives depended on it. She can't come. If she asks, you're having a meeting with some members of the Ministry, which will be true enough."

Arthur looked down at the envelope and felt the first tangs of worry. "Bill, what's going on?"

"I can't tell you, not yet," Bill said. "But I can tell you that it's important, perhaps even as important as the old Order of the Phoenix was, back in Dumbledore's day. I can tell you no one you're going to meet tonight is a dark wizard or witch. And we simply want to talk. Please come, Dad. Just open the envelope, and it will do the rest."

With that, Bill stood and walked quickly out of Arthur's office. When he was gone, Arthur looked down at the envelope with a worried frown. He had no doubt the man who came was his son—the Ministry's new security procedures tested for both Polyjuice Potion and the _Imperius_ curse using new methods developed by Potter's company. Further, he recognized Bill by his many personal mannerisms, such as the way he brushed his hair off his shoulder, and crossed his legs when he sat.

What was Bill up to?

"Mr. Weasley, you're three o'clock is here," his secretary said over the magical desk-com.

"Thank you, Marge. Please send her in." He glanced once more at the envelope before he placed it in his briefcase. Work came first, no matter what Bill wanted.

Except, of course, that it really didn't. His meeting with Mafalda Hopkirk dragged on for a seeming eternity, and when it was done it felt almost as if his clocks were moving backward. Finally, at ten minutes until six, Arthur decided he could not take it anymore. He gathered his things and nodded to Marge on the way out of his office.

"Off a bit early, see you tomorrow," he said to his secretary.

The young witch smiled kindly. "Well, seeing as you were in an hour early, I don't think ten minutes early will count against you too badly, sir. Have a good night."

Arthur headed down the corridor to the lift that would take him to the main atrium and looked around at the many other witches and wizards leaving work for the day. Some nodded to him, while the many younger faces pointedly ignored him. Arthur for his part recognized them—they were part of Harry's new cadre of Ministry employees who acted as if they were the lords of the Ministry.

In some ways, they were much like the Death Eaters were during Voldemort's short, bloody reign. Granted, they did not kill or torture anyone. Instead, they performed punishing audits, reorganized departments, laid off long-time Ministry employees and set up magical computers to do the work that before belonged to honest, hard-working individuals who now had no job at all.

Cold, hard and efficient, much like Potter himself.

Molly gave him a kiss on the cheek when he got home. He was pleased to see that Ginny joined them for dinner—she'd left Phoenix Industries for a position with the Holyhead Harpies last year and was quite famous as a chaser. Even with her fame and fortune, though, she still came home often for dinner since despite Holly's best efforts to teach her Ginny could not cook.

They talked quidditch, taxes and the weather. They did not mention Harry Potter at all—Arthur because he didn't really approved of what Harry was doing and Ginny because she not only approved it, but was one of Harry's most vocal public supporters.

"Well, that was lovely as usual," Arthur said. "However, I have a meeting tonight with a pair of old Wizengamot friends to talk about a bill they're thinking about introducing. They asked me to take a look before bringing it to the Minister."

"What's it about?" Ginny asked. "I can tell you right now if Harry will go for it."

"Well, I'm not rightly sure yet, since I haven't seen it," Arthur said. And then because his daughter's presumptuousness bothered him, he added, "However, since I am the Senior Undersecretary of Magic, I do believe it's my job to review pending bills first, not yours young lady."

"Merlin, Dad, you sound like Percy," Ginny said, laughing off his admonishing tone. "Well, have a good night. Are you going to be able to make the game next week?"

"I'll certainly try," Arthur said. "I'm sure Ron will be there to cheer on the Canons."

Ginny snorted. "As if they could ever beat the Harpies. Well, have a good night. Thanks for supper, Mum!"

She hopped up and apparated away without further word. When she was gone, Molly and Arthur shared a long, knowledgeable look. After thirty years, the two could read each other without effort. "You'll be careful?" she asked, somehow knowing he was lying to his daughter.

"I will," he said. "I don't know when I'll be home."

She nodded. "Okay. Love you, dear."

"And you, Molly love."

He walked back to his study—a feature of their new home he absolutely cherished—and pulled out the envelope. Without hesitation, he opened it up and felt the familiar tug of a portkey. It took him only a moment to orient himself, and he realized with a start that he was standing on the edge of Hogsmeade.

"I was beginning to worry," Bill said, emerging from the shadows of a tree. Being early summer in Scotland, the sun was still up despite the late hour. "Come on, we're meeting at the Hog's Head."

They did not go through the central portion of town, however. Instead, they stayed in a back alley behind most of the shops until they reached the decrepit old bar still run by Albus Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth. The ancient, withered wizard was there to meet them in person with a grunt. He turned and led the way back into the bar, which sat empty save for two tables pulled together.

Arthur felt his stomach drop when he saw who was there. "Ambassador Uretsky? Deputy Mugwump Ramirez?"

"Arthur, good to see you!" David Uretsky of the American Magical Consulate said. He stood, stepped forward and extended a hand which Arthur shook numbly.

The second man at the table looked like a swarthy-skinned Dumbledore, extending to the twinkle in his eyes common to the truly powerful. "Senior Undersecretary," Diego Ramirez, Deputy Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and the Chief Warlock of the Brazillian Magical Ministry, said. His voice sounded deep and solemn "And may I introduce Mage General Stefan Andropolous of the ICW Enforcers Division."

Arthur shook the hand of the gruff, gray-headed wizard. "Weasley. I've heard a lot about you from your son," the Athenian wizard said in accented but otherwise impeccable English. "Bill is a good man—it has been a pleasure serving with him."

Arthur turned and stared at Bill. "What do you mean?"

"I've been working with the ICW Enforcers for a while now," Bill said. "I didn't want any of the family to know, though. The Enforcers and Potter's army have had clashes, and you know how Ron, Percy, the Twins and Ginny are."

"Please, have a seat," Ramirez said. "Before we continue, Arthur, I'm afraid we are going to have to ask for an Unbreakable Vow. What we are going to discuss has been deemed top secret by the ICW Enforcer Division and myself. The vow will certify that you will not divulge what you learn this evening, nor will you divulge the identifies of those who were here. The exact wording is in your portkey."

Arthur still clutched the envelope in his hands and pulled out the slip of paper with the vow. It used rather standard language. "Very well, since it does not compel action I can agree to it," Arthur said.

He made the vow to Ramirez with the American ambassador serving as the bonder. When that was done, Ramirez removed a massive manila folder from an obviously charmed pocket in his robes. He looked Arthur in the face as he began to speak. "Almost six years ago, shortly before her death, Minister Amelia Bones sent a phial of memory to Dumbledore's ICW office, hoping perhaps that his replacement to the ICW would find it. In the phial, she provided a memory of her and Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt discussing the very high probability that Auror Nymphadora Tonks was murdered by either Harry Potter or one of his two disciples during his fight with Bellatrix Lestrange. She also stated that Albus Dumbledore believed with his last breath that Potter was as dangerous, if not more so, than Voldemort himself."

Arthur sucked in his breath. "No!"

"Oh it gets better, dad," Bill said with a humorless smile. "And that's why you're here. The life of more than half our family hangs in the balance. For your children's sake, we need your help…"


	2. Bearding the Lion

A/N: So, I had to create a forum for this in with the language type Esperanto. After messing with the automated descriptions for all my other forums, and having to delete my Unspeakable Things forum (which, to be honest, won't be missed). But, I now have a forum in which I've posted review responses and had a brief discussion about where things stand. However, this chapter will give everyone a pretty good view of HP's world.

I'll admit I didn't like this chapter. It was necessary, and it sets the stage, but there's a hell of a lot of talking because it's as much a setting of time, place and circumstance as anything. It's almost like the chorus of an ancient Greek play, framing the background for the audience to understand what is about to happen.

So, bear with me. Things get moving, really moving, next chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Bearding the Lion**

 _Current Day_

Alec Colson, CEO of Colson Avionics, strode with an air of false confidence toward the double doors of the true center of power in the world, while hidden behind his confident expression, his stomach twisted into painful knots.

Many people who didn't know better thought that Washington, Moscow, or Beijing were the true centers of power in the world. Those people did not know the truth. No, the true center of power in the world, at least for the past two years, was in Surrey, a county bordering London, England, and housed in the gleaming new skyscraper with the burning phoenix emblem rising triumphantly on its side.

The firebird emblem was everywhere, now, from China to Miami, Alaska to Sydney. Oh, how Colson hated it!

Phoenix Industries exploded onto the energy market in 1997, and by 2000 was making the OPEC nations sit up and blink in shock at the sudden drop-off in profits. The Phoenix solar panels were astonishingly efficient and productive, beyond what most experts thought was even scientifically possible, and helped create a new generation of motor vehicles that could drive for hundreds of miles to the gallon. But more damaging still was Phoenix Industries new synthetic oil—which burned so cleanly that even environmentalists could not take issue with it—and which Potter sold in vast quantities at below-market rates.

Phoenix Industries technology had a security feature not even the Chinese—who were notoriously well known for stealing patents from Western nations—could not crack. When opened the solar panels turned into an acidic sludge which prevented any competition from studying the technology. In fact, it was suspicious just how well protected all Phoenix Industry products were. The capacitors which Colson's own people told him were the true secret behind the efficacy of the solar panels were just as protected. The interiors melted into sludge if the casing was cracked open, and the casing itself was resistant to x-ray technology. Potter's oil production facilities were in undisclosed facilities built somewhere off the ivory coast.

Then there was the Phoenix fusion power plant. The reactor outside of Marseilles was a feat of engineering Colson never thought he would see in his lifetime, and he was far from alone. The sheer technological genius the engineers of Phoenix Energy displayed in developing a controlled fusion reaction left the whole world stunned, and naysayers claiming it all hoax. The naysayers were forcibly silenced when the reactor went live, and two weeks later half of France's old nuclear reactors were taken off line. The sheer amount of energy being produced proved beyond question the reactor was real.

Alec's sources assured him Phoenix netted nearly a two billion euro profit in the construction of the reactor and the clean-up of the old nuclear facilities, and now had a state-sponsored monopoly in energy production in France that was going to pay easily three to four hundred million Euros annually above operating costs.

As sobering as his engineering and business successes were, though, the brilliant, frightening, young president of the privately owned Phoenix Industries had also recently demonstrated a ruthlessness not seen since the American Ross Perot used mercenaries to save his employees from a hostage situation.

Given the sharp impact Phoenix Energies had on the OPEC nations, it was only a matter of time before he became a target. Of course, no one would admit a link between official allies of the United States and the many terrorist organizations that existed to try and destroy the United States. Yet, when the profits from oil were threatened, somehow Phoenix Industries became a target for every fundamentalist Islamic organization in the world.

Riots and protests filled the streets of cities across the Near East, targeting British and American Embassies (and occasionally a Dutch embassy, just because). No one single reason was given, though sometimes there were rumors spread that Potter or other Phoenix senior staff profaned the Prophet or the Koran.

Harry Potter officially ignored the protests until a solar farm in Tunisia was attacked by what at first appeared to be protesters, but soon proved to be an organized, well-funded militant strike which swept through and captured over a hundred Phoenix Industries employees. Video soon emerged of an employee being beheaded at the front gates of the facility. A second was killed the next morning.

On the second night of the crises, Phoenix Security Services retook the facility, slaughtered every one of the attackers and saved all but the two employees who were publicly beheaded.

If that were the end of it, Colson supposed, it would not have been so sobering. However, Potter was not content with just freeing his people. Over the next two weeks, Phoenix Security Services swept through dozens of military and paramilitary camps across the entire Near East from Egypt to Afghanistan, ignoring political boundaries using what Potter described as "undeniable evidence of culpability" to kill thousands of militant Fundamentalists of various sects and nationalities.

The world aggressively ignored it, while according to Colson various national militaries began to wonder just what the hell Phoenix Industries was doing with that much military might, and how much it would cost to buy it. Amazingly, even the countries that hosted and secretly supported the camps were silent. Iran screamed retribution and violence against Washington for supporting Israel, but it was absolutely silent when Phoenix Industries came into the conversation even after having two of its military installations obliterated in hours. The young company president was publicly hailed as the world's new Alexander the Great, and he did not shy away from the title at all. "The world can be great, and I intend to show it how," he was quoted as saying.

In ten minutes, Alec Colson, CEO of Coulson Industries was going to sit down with this brilliant new leader and start a plan he hoped would handle a threat far greater than what he witnessed five months ago.

" _We're keeping him black-listed officially,_ " Agent Barrett told Coulson right before he received a call from Potter personally inviting him to visit Phoenix Industries. _"We want him to follow our clues, rather than just open the door to let him in. So he's looking for information any way he can get it. Don't make it too easy on him."_

The high rise that made up the headquarters of Phoenix Industries was brand new, built in just ten months, and shone with the gleam of new construction. The interior atrium rose up in the center of the building, framed by walls of a transparent carbon alloy that Phoenix patented. As clear as glass, the composite material was actually stronger than high tensile-strength steel. Already the new material was revolutionizing construction around the world, and was just one more thing to despise Phoenix Industries for.

Coulson walked confidently to the information desk and the small army of young people in formal suits who stood or sat behind the reception desk. "Good evening, Mr. Colson," a smiling young woman said before he had a chance to even say hello. "Welcome to Phoenix Industries."

It should not have surprised Alec that they knew who he was the moment he walked into the doors. He'd heard interesting stories about just how unbelievably tight Phoenix Industries' security was. "Good afternoon. I'm here for my appointment."

"Of course, sir. Mr. Potter is looking forward to meeting you. Ah, here is your escort."

Colson turned and was met with a tall young man with short-trimmed red hair and chocolate brown eyes. He had a broad, strong chest underneath his tailored, four-piece suit and moved with a smooth gait that spoke of training. Alec had no doubt his escort was quite dangerous. "Mr. Colson, a pleasure to meet you. If you'll come with me?"

Colson nodded politely to the receptionist and turned to follow his escort. "I recognize you, lad," Colson said with the easy lilt that seemed to charm his American colleagues. "Didn't I see you on the telly in Egypt? Weasley, wasn't it?"

"Ron Weasley," the young man said with a wry quirk at the corner of his mouth. "And I was not on the telly."

Alec smiled. "No, I suppose not." Alec was not without his own resources, of course. He knew most of Potter's inner circle from his own research.

They continued toward the free-standing elevator shaft that ran up the very center of the hollow building. As they approached, Alec could see the web of walkways that connected the elevator shaft to the eighty levels of the building that rose in sparkling, near transparent splendor around them. They walked into one of the elevator cars and immediate it shot into the sky. "A very smooth ride," Colson commented. It came to a stop just a few seconds later—eighty floors in ten seconds. _Impressive._

Weasley led Alec across the sky bridge, which at first dizzying glance appeared open to the huge drop below (though of course it was not) toward the northern side of the tower. As he approached, the stretch of offices looked just as transparent as the rest of the interior of the tower—he could see the Wey River in the distance. And yet, when Mr. Weasley opened the door to the furthest office door, Coulson walked into a spacious reception area lined not in transparent carbon, but instead cherry wood and oak paneling with book-shelves rising from the floor to the ten-foot ceilings.

The interior was so incongruent with the rest of the tower that Alec actually stopped at the threshold of the door and stepped back out into the hall to stare at the window-clear wall in front of him, as opposed to the dark, wood-paneled room within.

"It's an eye-opener, isn't it?" Weasley said. "Fiber-optic cables in the walls."

Alec did not believe that for a moment, but knew this wasn't the time to argue. "A remarkable effect."

At the end of the room, behind a spacious desk of solid English oak, stood a lovely young woman with mocha-colored skin and green eyes. She was obviously waiting for him since she smiled in an expectant greeting at the two men. "Mr. Coulson, a pleasure to meet you. I'm Martha Weasley, Mr. Potter's executive assistant."

"Weasley?" Alec said, with a glance to his escort. "Any relation?"

"Mr. Potter appreciates family," Martha said smoothly, "even families that form among his friends and employees. If you'll follow me?"

Once inside the actual working area of the building, it took on much more of the appearance of a normal office building. Beyond the reception area Martha walked him by a small area filled with cubicles, while the outer wall was lined with offices. Alec noticed that the glass appeared to be reactive, in one case darkening to pure black even as he looked on.

Mrs. Weasley led him further down the hall, which curved with the outer wall of the building, until they came to a set of solid double doors. She did not even bother to knock as she opened the doors and stepped inside. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Coulson is here."

Alec followed a step behind and saw what many would consider a home-sized space. The office easily occupied eighteen hundred square feet or more. There was a sunken area just inside the door large enough to seat twenty with a one gigantic 120 inch LCD television set into the wall, framed by half dozen smaller ones. At the moment, the large television was covering the navy's efforts to recover the USS _Nimitz_ battle group that was lost five months ago to a supposed meteor shower. Having that particular news program on as Coulson walked in was a bit nerve-racking to be sure, given his mission that day.

Despite the size of the entertainment area, only one person occupied the space—a young lady with white-blond hair sat with one leg tucked under her, a Phoenix Fire tablet on her lap and her eyes closed.

The far side of the office suite was occupied not by one, but in fact two large work stations. However, the occupants of both waited comfortably behind the nearest desk. As Alec looked at the attractive young woman standing just behind the seated figure, with one hand resting on his shoulder, he was struck by the sheer youth and vitality the couple projected. He knew they were in their twenties, but they looked as if they could still be in their late teens and were beautiful for it.

"Alec Coulson, an honor to meet you," Harry Potter said as he stood and offered a hand.

"The honor is mine," Alec lied as he accepted the almost painfully strong grip.

"And may I introduce my wife, Hermione."

"Mr. Coulson," the lovely young lady said, as she too offered a hand. Alec toyed with the idea of kissing her knuckles but knew from other's experience that such a gesture would not be appreciated.

They sat and a moment later Martha Weasley reappeared with a tray of tea and cucumber sandwiches. "Sugar?" she asked.

"And cream, thank you," Alex said diffidently. "I must say, Mr. Potter, this building of yours is quite remarkable. However did you manage to project outside images to the interior walls? Because, let's be frank, your cover story of fiber optic cables is not quite feasible for that level of illusion."

"It was actually a discarded project for the Crown, a type of camouflage," Potter said easily as he made a cup of tea for his wife, and then himself. When the secretary was done with Coulson's, she nodded not to Harry, but to Hermione, before leaving the room. The blonde continued to sit in the depressed entertainment area and watched the silent televisions. Coulson of course knew that her name was Luna Lovegood, and she was considered a "concubine" to Potter, but it was one of those facts people knew not to question or even admit to knowing at all.

"Well, I must say the Pentagon would be quite interested in it."

"The Chief of Staff might have mentioned it," Harry said with a dry smile.

"Well, you invited me here, and no lawyers are present, so I have to admit I'm curious as to my presence here. Are you interested in moving into the avionics field?"

"Yes, actually," Harry said easily. "In fact, I was fairly far along in developing an exo-atmospheric craft when I heard from my connections that Coulson Avionics was involved in a black-ops project for the American military. A project, it was rumored, that involved possibly alien technology."

Coulson snorted. "Oh, surely you don't believe that, do you? I mean, I tried myself to find proof and ended up a public laughing stock. Trust me, Mr. Potter, nothing could destroy your reputation or even your company faster than talking about aliens."

Hermione laughed before sipping tea. "Oh, Mr. Colson, there are so many ways to destroy a reputation. Believe us, we know. What we were hoping to discuss with you was the possibility of a joint project."

While she spoke, Harry tapped a few commands into a hidden keyboard, and Alec had to fight to keep from spitting out tea when an honest-to-God three-dimensional hologram appeared above the desk; it was a hologram of the F-302. In a carefully controlled tone of voice, Colson leaned forward and said, "Goodness, what is that?"

"You're an excellent engineer and an effective CEO, Mr. Colson," Harry said, "but you're a very poor liar. Colson Avionics produces the multi-engine control units that help stabilize the F-302s primary and secondary thruster packs."

"Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I can't discuss this with you," Colson said carefully.

"I understand that," Potter said. "Your little show last month was entertaining. I found it interesting that Washington bailed your company out, until I learned why. They needed your M.E.C. units." He leaned forward and typed a few more commands.

The hologram of the F-302 disappeared, replaced by a whole new craft that looked almost like a fixed-wing 50's era jet airplane with a long, tapering nose and a large projection at the tip of each wing. What Colson found surprising were the two large variable vector thrusters that reached out from the fuselage, and the rear placement of the wings with only small stabilizer fins in the nose.

"That is the Phoenix X-1, code-named _Headhunter,_ " Potter said. "It is an endo/exo-atmospheric space superiority fighter craft. I have already personally left the Earth's atmosphere in our model twice. It is capable of accelerating to one third _C_ and runs on a modified fusion platform. Based on what I have seen of the F-302s performance in my company's satellite footage, the _Headhunter_ would literally fly rings around them. It also sports two chemical-based particle laser cannons capable of producing repeated one-shot, one-kill blasts. Think of it as an arsenal of your most powerful air-to-air missiles without the weight. The lasers use a derivative of Helium 3, and when properly fueled can fire over a thousand shots before requiring restocking."

 _This is impossible_. It was the only thing Colson could think of. Having recently been completely debriefed and made a part of the Stargate's alien technology review program, Colson knew that America's entry into true space flight was only possible through the extensive use of alien technologies. But what he was looking at right now bore no resemblance at all to anything they had encountered in their travels.

"What do you want?" Colson finally asked.

"I want in," Potter said simply. "You and your allies have access to alien technology. I want a piece of the pie. And in return—we could go into a mutually beneficial joint production deal on the future air/space superiority craft for the whole world that could earn our respective companies hundreds of _trillions_."

Colson fought to keep his hands from shaking as he put his tea down. "It is certainly an intriguing offer, Mr. Potter. I hope you understand that I am not an entirely free agent in this matter."

"I understand," Harry said. "I would appreciate it if you were willing to speak to your colleagues about the offer. I believe Phoenix Industries and Colson Avionics would make a powerful team. And if you are willing to work with us directly, well…"

"We wouldn't have to buy you out instead," Hermione said with a cool, dangerous smile.

"Frankly I'm surprised you haven't already tried," Colson said, responding instinctively to the threat.

"I'd prefer not to," Harry admitted. "When I buy out competition, it's because I genuinely believe I can do their jobs better. However, you are a first rate engineer and I believe you are the best leader for your company. I would much rather work with you. But one way or the other, I usually get what I want. More tea?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

On the Monday following Coulson's visit, an odd family took their supper at the top of a skyscraper of glass, steel, and magic. The garden atop the Phoenix Industries building was heavily warded against satellite observation and shrouded in a disillusionment charm that made it invisible to helicopters.

This was necessary because Luna liked to lounge in the nude, and could rarely be bothered to dress for dinner. Being a fit, nubile young woman, Harry never objected to her preference, and Hermione herself had simply grown accustomed to it.

Given his status as the youngest self-made trillionaire in the world, many people would be surprised that Harry Potter cooked for himself and his family on those nights they were actually home. He certainly didn't have to—he could easily afford to keep a gourmet chef on staff. However, Harry took several culinary courses in France early in the rise of Phoenix Industries, and when time permitted, he used the act of cooking as a form of meditation to help come down from work.

As he laid out the meal, Hermione put down her Fire tablet, a product of Phoenix Technologies, and spoke of their day. "The PM's office has said they are unable to confirm or deny anything due to obligations to their colleagues. They're black-balling us, Harry, but we know they know. Ron told me that his father heard from the American Department of Magic envoy that the Americans had discovered hard evidence of the _Heaven Gate_ that the ancient wizards used to banish Ra. We know it exists—that's where the runes I used to trap Voldemort came from. The text I found mentioned Heaven's Gate was sealed forever. But if the American's somehow found it…"

"Mr. Weasley isn't a gossip," Luna said idly as she used her wand to magically remove the shell of her lobster. "Hmmm, this is delicious." She chewed, swallowed and then sipped her wine. "He was very excited about the news. He had even brought one of his family's history tomes from his vault to show us what was known about the myths of Ra and the wizard rebellion."

"Did you scan him?" Harry asked.

Luna frowned. "Harry, after my mum died, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley practically raised me for several years before Daddy could recover. I do believe I would have starved if not for them. I do not scan them, ever."

Harry apologized by topping off her glass and handing her a cheddar and garlic roll. She accepted his apology with relish; his rolls really were the best, after all.

They ate in companionable silence after that. After seven years together, they no longer felt the need to fill the silence with idle chatter, though sometimes they did so anyway just because Luna enjoyed talking. They followed their normal routine after eating—a light sparring match between Hermione and Harry, while Luna meditated.

None of them slept more than three or four hours a night, so they continued sparring well into the morning hours. They did not stop until Hermione's tablet beeped loudly at her. "That's different," Harry noted as they deactivated their lightsabers.

"I placed an alert on it if we received any communication from Colson." She summoned a towel not with her wand, but with the Force, and wiped the sweat from her face as she picked her tablet off the table and began pulling through the files. After a moment, she looked wide-eyed at Harry.

"He sent us information about the _USS Nimitz_."

"Show me," Harry said as he also summoned a towel to wipe away the sweat of a three hour sparring session with his wife.

She routed the file through the tower's wireless server and a large screen rose up from the edge of the balcony that overlooked the Wey River. The display came to life immediately. The image appeared to be taken from High Earth Orbit. Dominating the horizon, they saw a massive golden pyramid rising from the center of a hulking, floating city of black metal with glints of gold that was firing thick bolts of energy toward the planet.

"Particle based?" Hermione speculated aloud.

"Has to be; it's not a laser, the bolts move too slowly and physically interact with the atmosphere—see the heat dissipation? Slight, but noticeable. Straight lasers would lens, but not visibly shrink in size, assuming they were visible at all," Potter said.

The image switched to that of a vessel on the sea half a mile from the USS _Nimitz_ battle group just as the blast rained down like the wrath of God himself, obliterating the entire carrier group in minutes.

"That was impressive," Hermione said, wide-eyed.

"The _Nimitz_ had no shielding. A simple magnetic shield would have diluted the power by half," Potter muttered. "Still, it was a powerful shot, perhaps the power of a ship-based laser cannon, or possibly even a mid-powered turbolaser. Interesting."

"I felt them all screaming, I just didn't understand why," Luna said softly, sadly, as she gazed at the footage.

Suddenly the screen lit up to show an image of Colson himself behind a desk. The man looked tired, with dark rings around his eyes. "Hello, Mr. Potter," he said with his lilting brogue. "Interesting footage, wasn't it? I described to my colleagues the _Headhunter_ that you showed me, and to express the strength of their interest, they showed me this. To be honest, I almost wish they had not. Needless to say, there are many people who are very, very interested in your space plane. So interested they are willing to let you in."

Colson looked around the office before sighing. "I've learned quite a lot myself in the past few days. I even got to ride in an F-302. It's quite amazing, really. The program is called the Stargate Program. It is run primarily by the United States Air Force, but there is an international oversight committee that is directly involved with management of the program, given how many alien cultures Earth has come into contact. It is with the blessing of the IOC that I formally extend to you an invitation to tour the Stargate Facility. We do ask that you limit your party to no more than six. When you are ready to accept the invitation, send me an email."

The screen blinked and then went dead.

"Oh Merlin, it's true then," Hermione whispered. "They've actually travelled among the stars."

Harry walked back to the dinner table, cleared it with a wave of his hand, and sat down with the towel around his neck. "Obviously we survived the attack we just witnessed, somehow. But the United States must be desperate for space-based offensive technology if those are the kinds of enemies the world is facing."

"What does this mean for the ten-year-plan?" Hermione asked.

"We may have to accelerate," Harry said.

Beside him, Luna shuddered. "Harry…."He turned and looked at her, but she shook her head. "I feel darkness. Something about this is wrong."

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. Hermione finally said, "I'll inform Lawrence to have the failsafe protocols prepared, just in case."

* * *

a/n: Thanks for reading.


	3. A Wall of Magic

A/N: Chap 2 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: A Wall of Magic**

Arthur Weasley tried to hide his nervousness as best he could. Originally, it was nervousness that he would be caught. Potter could practice even deep _Legillimancy_ scans without a wand, and all it would take would be one glance and he would know Arthur was hiding something despite his own, somewhat inadequate _Occlumancy_.

Unofficially Arthur was invited because he was known to be obsessed with Muggle flying machines. Officially, he was the second highest official in the British Ministry of Magic even if Potter and his young minions controlled all the real power in the Ministry. When he arrived at the private airport in the Welsh countryside, Hermione glanced at him in surprise.

"Arthur," she said with a friendly but curious smile. "Where's Ron and Percy? They were supposed to come as well."

"My apologies," Arthur said. "It appears the whole Weasley clan but me caught a touch of Spattergroit. Messy, really. I had to beg Bill and Fleur to come to the Burrow to watch over them all for a few days. But I thought it would only be right to have a Weasley here with you."

"Oh, that's awful," Hermione said with real sympathy. "When we get back, I'll go give them a visit."

"That would be lovely," Arthur agreed. To cover up his nervousness, he looked at the plane they would be taking. "That looks very different from the other Muggle aeroplanes I have seen."

"Oh, it's a brilliant plane," Hermione said as she took his arm and led him toward the wheeled stairs. "It's called a _Concorde_. It's not in service any more, but Harry bought one, reconditioned it and improved it a little. It will get us to the United States in three and a half hours, and to Colorado not even an hour after that!"

"How marvelous," Arthur said, this time not bothering to hide his nervousness.

The take-off was terrifying to Arthur, especially with how very quickly the jet roared into the heavens. They seemed to skim the edge of creation itself, so high Arthur could actually see black above the blue haze of the atmosphere.

The plane was full, too. Charles Tennant, the Muggle PM's liaison officer to the Ministry of Magic, rode near Arthur talking casually with young Justin Finch-Fletchley about the state of the conversion from the gold recovered from the caves of the now extinct Goblins to modern currency. Originally they conceived of going to the British pound, but now were converting to the Euro. And young Mr. Finch-Fletchley, at only twenty-five years of age, was the Minister of Finance making it happen. It did help that the young man at least went back to school after Hogwarts on an accelerated schedule to obtain proper credentials to work in finance, but it still felt wrong that the financial future of Magical England was on the back of a child.

It did not help that this child was currently dating Arthur's only daughter.

In fact, the whole group seemed excited and rather happy, and this had to do primarily with Harry himself. Arthur knew from overheard conversations of his children that Harry had a deep, abiding interest in space, and the idea that the Americans were already there pulled him like a moth to a flame. He seemed electrified by the thought of visiting the Stargate facility.

The hook was sunk deeply when the Americans sent Lieutenant Colonel Richard Samuels to meet with Harry and discuss possible contributions he could make to the program through the astonishing research and development team at Phoenix Industries.

The American lieutenant colonel was on the plane even now, sharply dressed in his uniform and obviously trying to suck in his gut as he discussed the history of the Stargate program with young Hermione Potter.

Pretty much the only person who did not seem to be enjoying herself sat in the far back seat of the jet, staring forlornly out a window onto the curving horizon. "Arthur?"

He blinked and realized Harry was speaking to him. "I'm sorry, Harry. My mind wandered a bit. What was that?"

"I was asking about the status of the DoM's research on the gate symbols," Harry said.

"Oh, yes, sorry," Arthur said. He reached into his robe and removed one of twenty reports he carried with him all the time. Potter expected answers quickly. "Here we go. Yes, it turns out that we have identified several matches in magical writing to the constellation symbols used in the gate. One Unspeakable went so far as to say that these symbols might have been some of the first writing on Earth, since they predate all other writing systems we know of by several millennia."

He finished the report and saw that Harry was already talking with Tennant. Arthur found his eyes once more drifting to Luna, not even thinking twice about Potter's dismissal.

"She had a nightmare last night," Harry said, once again breaking Arthur's thoughts.

"What was that?"

Potter looked back at Arthur, proving the senior undersecretary was not quite as forgotten as he thought. "Luna, you're worried about her. She'll be fine, she just had a nightmare."

Arthur smiled. "Yes, well, one can't blame me for some concern. She spent enough time at our house after her mum died; she's become one of the family."

Harry gave Arthur one of his few, genuine smiles. "Yes, quite a few are, Arthur. I'm sure she wouldn't mind talking to you. We should be landing in a few minutes anyway."

Arthur smiled. "Odd walking about on this contraption, you know." He stood, hoping the comment would cover the spike of fear Arthur felt. Of all of Potter's people, in a way Luna was the most dangerous. Last year, she casually mentioned that old Bertie Hastings in Magical Transport was engaged in a smuggling operation, and based on her word alone Potter fired Hastings, tried him, and sentenced him to ten years in prison. Granted, there were no dementors, but it was certainly not going to be pleasant.

But the real story was that Luna said she discovered his crimes by a dream. That's when the world at large realized that Luna Lovegood was one of the most powerful and accurate seers in the modern magical world, since in fact Bertie Hastings was as guilty as she said after the results of the investigation were made public.

If anyone could ruin their plans, it was her.

He settled down next to the young woman and quickly buckled himself back up. Without looking at him, Luna said, "Don't worry, Mr. Weasley. We'll land safely."

"Well, that's good, I suppose," Arthur said. "I couldn't help but notice you've been feeling under the weather. Is there anything I can do, dear?"

She reached down and patted his hand. "I'm sure you've done what you can," she said softly.

"Whatever do you mean?"

She turned and smiled at him, though her silver-blue eyes looked sad. "I dreamed that Harry fell through a veil of shimmering blue light. I dreamed of fire, and screaming, and blood. And then I dreamed of darkness. I've never had a dream of darkness before. I'm not sure what it means, but it frightened me terribly."

"I'm so sorry, dear," Arthur said, struggling to breathe normally. "Would you like a cuppa?"

"No, no thank you. I think I'd rather like Harry to sit with me, but unfortunately he's quite busy. So, I'll just look out the window if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Arthur said. He unbuckled and left her there, before making his way back to the table where Harry and Tennant were working. He resumed his old seat and said, "She rather wishes you'd sit with her for a spell, Harry."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at her, and for a brief moment Arthur thought he saw a glimpse of the boy Harry used to be. It lasted only a moment. "She'll be alright," he said. "I've promised her the entire flight back. For now, I want to get this proposal done. The sooner we get it submitted and approved, the sooner we can start construction."

Arthur said nothing as Potter and Tennant continued discussing something about a power plant in Leeds that Arthur could not even understand, much less participate in. As so often seemed to be the case, he found himself completely extraneous, and instead looked intently at the morose Luna as she stared out the window.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The landing was quite as terrifying as taking off, but when Arthur joined the group stepping off the plane, he found himself in a completely different world. Tall, majestic mountains rose up in front of him like a vanguard of giants protecting the sky, while behind him stretched a vast plain that ran for as long as he could see. "Welcome to Colorado, Gentlemen."

Arthur turned and saw a tall, rather lanky man with thinning hair in a well-tailored suit and red tie waiting for them in front of a row of black limousines. Harry stepped forward and offered a hand. "Harry Potter."

"Richard Woolsey with the International Oversight Agency. Thank you for coming, Minister Potter," Woolsey said, revealing with that simple phrase that he was aware of Harry's magical background.

"May I present my wife, Hermione Potter." So the introductions went, one after the other. Arthur shook the man's hand in his turn as if he had never heard of met him before, and Woolsey did the same.

They piled into the many limousines; Arthur was not surprised to see Woolsey slip into a car with Harry, Hermione, Luna and Tennant, while the rest were relegated to the second and then cars. The drive took a surprising amount of time as they passed through the town of Colorado Springs toward the massive, rocky outcrops.

The security check took thirty minutes even for VIPs. Even Woolsey went through the process of being patted down, walking through metal detectors and having his thumb-prints taken. In fact, he was the first through as a means of assuring his guests. Arthur noted that Harry did not look happy at all with the process, especially when he set off the metal detector.

As the men started to scan him, though, pulling him aside, Arthur too stepped through and set it off. "Oh, goodness!" he said, genuinely alarmed.

"It appears to be a function of our…background," Potter noted coolly as he looked at Woolsey. "Justin, why don't you give it a try?"

Finch-Fletchley did so and also set off the alarm. And so, on Woolsey's personal authority after a call to the base commander, they were allowed through without having to pass the metal detector.

The group had to take two elevators down, but when they arrived they did so into what looked almost like a military ship at sea. The walls were all painted gray and numbered, with lots of corners and large metal doors at various junctures hanging overhead like axes ready for a bare neck.

They were met by a tall man with short-cropped white hair who looked fit despite his age. "General Jack O'Neill," Woolsey introduced him with a not quite enthusiastic smile.

O'Neill seemed reserved as he greeted his gusts. He personally conducted the tour, talking about the many protective steps Stargate Command took to ensure they could contain whatever came through the gate.

"So, General, I understand that your people have a space-based interceptor," Harry said.

O'Neill blinked. "Maybe. I understand you've built one too."

"Possibly. Theoretically, I'm fairly sure mine is better."

"It's how you use it that counts," O'Neill responded automatically.

"Then Harry's is definitely better," Hermione said, while Luna giggled.

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "If you don't mind my asking, how old are you again?"

"Old enough to have developed and built a space superiority fighter on my own that's better than what you built with alien technology," Harry said with a flippant grin.

If Arthur didn't know better, he'd say Potter actually liked the general.

"This way to the Gateroom, if you please," O'Neill said, returning Harry's grin in kind.

"Tell me, General, is SG-1 on the premises?" Woolsey asked.

"SG-1 is decommissioned at the moment, and all other teams are either off planet or on leave," O'Neil said.

"Oh, what a shame," Woolsey said, though he looked happy at the news. To Harry, he said, "General Jack O'Neill was one of the first people through the gate to return. For many years he led that team, called SG-1. His team was the only one to include a being not born of this Earth."

"Really?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

"Yep." It was O'Neill's only response.

"Fascinating," Hermione said. She fell silent, though, as they entered the gate. Arthur ignored her and everyone else in their party save for Luna. The moment she saw the gate she froze with an expression of absolute dread on her face.

In that instant, Arthur knew that Luna sussed out what her dreams meant. In a flash, Arthur thought back to almost eight years ago, when he watched Harry Potter ruthlessly slaughter almost twenty Death Eaters, only to then threaten the Aurors sent to contain the situation. He would have killed those aurors if not for Hermione.

And now Hermione was just as bad as he was. Everything he had learned about what Harry had done over the past seven years boiled in his mind as Arthur looked at Luna, and knew with utter conviction that he had no more time.

"Oh, Harry, come, look at this!" Arthur said suddenly, working up his rusty old Gryffindor courage. He burst into motion toward the gate, and with a bemused smile at what he thought was Arthur's fascination with Muggle technology, Harry humored him and followed.

"Harry, wait!" Luna screamed, but it was too late.

The ward barrier exploded up from the floor in a pillar of light that struck both Harry and Arthur like giant fists. Even knowing as he did that it was coming, Arthur could not help but scream as a bone-deep agony as bad as any _Cruciatus_ struck him. The pain did not come from being cursed, but from the horrid feeling of having his magic ripped right out of his body.

The plan was for Mage General Andropolous and Deputy Mugwump Ramirez to coordinate with the Americans in a strike team to arrest and bind Hermione and Luna, while allowing the ward to destroy Harry. They'd been standing by via portkey for the moment the ward activated.

Over his own screams and agony, Arthur did not have the presence of mind to see how the plan unfolded for several moments. When he finally recovered enough to see straight, the first thing he saw was Harry on his knees, clenched fists held out to either side as if chained, with an expression of agony and rage burning on his flushed, sweating face.

Through the red glimmer of the ward, Arthur saw that the rest of the plan he, the Deputy Mugwump and the Enforcer General had devised had already fallen apart. They all knew that Hermione and Luna were skilled witches, but it was only now—staring at the decapitated bodies on the ground and the silver, glowing swords the two witches held to the throats of Ramirez and General O'Neill—that Arthur saw how truly dangerous they were.

Arthur knew the whole room was covered by a cascade of overlapping anti-apparation and anti-portkey jinxes, using the same tactic Potter did at the Battle of Hogwarts. That meant, however that Ramirez could not escape either. Over the lingering ringing in Arthur's ears, he heard Hermione's frantic voice demanding to know what the ward was doing to Harry.

Through the rest mist of his lingering pain, Arthur heard Diego's deep, rich voice answer. "What happens when you pull magic from the core of a wizard whose core cannot empty?"

"That's impossible!" Hermione snapped. She stood behind the Deputy Mugwump, her glowing sword visibly singing his beard.

"Child," Ramirez said, sounding contemptuous despite his danger. "As smart as you are, you are still young. If you studied for another seventy years, you would then only scratch the surface of what I know. You and your arrogant brethren have assumed you were masters of magic because your elders praised you years ago, and yet you never realized true mastery of magic can only be achieved with time and effort. You can't even begin to understand what is possible or not."

Despite his own pain and a newly increasing sense of exhaustion, Arthur still jumped in shock as Hermione flicked her silver blade down, and without any resistance, sheared off Diego's arm at the elbow.

"Does your mastery of magic include re-growing arms, you arrogant bastard?" Hermione snapped. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because we know, Hermione!"

Arthur closed his eyes, hoping against hope it was not his eldest son stepping out onto a floor filled with dead bodies. When he opened his eyes, he saw Bill and a squad of ICW enforcers standing at the door. Hermione and Luna both spun until their backs faced the ward wall, keeping their hostages between them and the new threat.

"Bill, how can you do this?" Hermione asked.

"Because we know what Harry did!" Bill answered, wand in hand. "We know about how he started the Goblin war and used it to gain control of the ICW. We know about his plans to merge the Muggle and Magical Worlds under his singular rule. We know about his _Sed_ in Chile and about the murder of Nymphadora Tonks. The ICW has found all three of you guilty of crimes against magic, murder and genocide against the Goblin Nation. It ends here, now. None of you will be allowed to leave this room."

"Release Harry, or none of _you_ will leave this room alive," Hermione snarled. In all the years Arthur had known her, he'd never seen such naked hatred and anger on the young woman's face as he saw then as she faced his oldest son.

"The ward cannot be released, child," Ramirez said. This time, the pain of his amputation made his strong voice shake weakly. "It is a variant of the very ward you selected against Voldemort, only far more powerful and effective. Even if we cannot drain all of Potter's magic, the very act of pulling magic from him will eventually cause his heart to burst. The ward will go until that happens, even if you kill us all."

"You think," Luna said. She sounded cold against Hermione's hot rage. "If you were so sure the ward will kill him, you'd have set it up in his office at the Ministry of Magic. You didn't—you set up an elaborate, Dumbledorian plot to lure us here. Why?"

"Miss, could you move that thing a little further from my neck," General O'Neill said carefully.

With an odd courtesy given their circumstances, she said, "I'm sorry, no. Sadly, I need to be able to kill you quickly should that Ginger-headed traitor make any moves."

Arthur winced at the term.

"Oh for crying out loud," O'Neill said, though he made sure not to move. "They want you off planet, okay? I dial the gate, you walk through and don't come back. That's why you're here. And no, before you ask, I didn't have anything to do with it. I found out about this whole mess barely two hours ago. Crap like this is why I don't do covert ops anymore."

"Harry, can you hear me?" Hermione said.

He could only manage a low, animalistic growl. But then, suddenly, Bill's eyes bulged and he dropped his wand to clasp desperately at his throat.

"Harry, please!" Arthur croaked out weakly. "Please, don't kill my son. Kill me instead, but please don't take my son away from me! Please…"

The sound of Bill Weasley's snapping neck filled the room. Arthur could only stare as his brilliant, beautiful firstborn son fell limply to the floor. "No," he whispered. The rest of the room simply stared in awe as Harry forced himself back to his feet. He moved as if the whole world literally rested on his shoulders, but he did not stop until he was standing.

"Peace is a lie!" he shouted in a voice hardly recognizable as human. "There is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength!"

Another of the Enforcers screamed as his head spun around one hundred and eighty degrees before he dropped dead.

"Through strength, I gain power!"

Another fell. The remaining enforcers tried sending curses, but of course the ward drained all magic. None of them ever believed Harry could hurt them from behind it.

"Through power I gain victory!"

Another Enforcer fell and the rest turned to flee for their lives, only to fly backward as if caught by giant fishing lines. "Through victory my chains are broken! The Force shall free me!

The rest of the Enforces died simultaneously. In the utter silence, through his tears, Arthur could see the horror and disbelief on Ramirez's face. Andropolous was already dead on the floor, evidently one of the first causalities of Hermione's and Luna's strange weapons. The only people who lived were Hermione, Luna and their hostages.

Luna was the first to move. She unlit her blade and stepped back from General O'Neill. "I'm sorry you had to witness this, General," she said sadly. Amidst all the blood and bodies, she sounded small and very young. "It was not right for our enemies to bring you and your people into this."

O'Neill rubbed his neck where her blade came close enough to redden his skin while looking at all the carnage around him. "You do this to all your enemies?"

"Yes," Luna said simply. "You yourself know never to leave an enemy at your back. We need to leave now. Would you send us to a good planet, Jack?"

O'Neill looked intently at Luna, then at where Hermione held the now one-armed Ramirez at sword-point. "Fine. Sure. But on one condition—you two stop killing."

Though Arthur couldn't see Luna's face, he could hear grief and even tears in her voice. "General, we never wanted to hurt anyone. They left us no choice. But this…this is a choice. We choose to walk away rather than take revenge. That should be enough for you."

With a last long look at the two girls, O'Neill left them by stepping over the many bodies that littered the gate room. Just moments later, Arthur could see him through the window of the observation room. The alien ring began to spin and hum, and as close as Arthur was he could feel the vibration and energy of it in the air.

As the ring spun, Arthur shuddered as Harry turned and stared at him. The man's striking green eyes were now ringed in orange, giving his face a sinister, alien cast made even more pronounced by the obvious pain he was in. "The heart of hell has a place for traitors," he growled, still in his barely human voice.

"As you will find out," Arthur said. He barely recognized the sound of his own voice, which also sounded hoarse from his earlier screaming. "We fed you and loved you, and you've killed my oldest son. My little Billy-boy."

"Be glad you had no other sons here," Harry growled back.

Behind him, a burst of blue, plasma flushed out from the gate before settling back into a smooth, water-like surface lit from within.

"Harry!" Hermione called through the ward wall. "You have to go first so the ward will drop."

Harry looked back at Hermione but did not move. Luna, walking up beside Hermione.

"There's something we have to do first," the smaller woman said. Suddenly she thrust a hand out and an unseen force slammed into Ramirez and threw him from Hermione's grip into the ward.

Arthur winced at the old wizard's screams as the ward ripped the magic from him. With a satisfied nod, Harry marched slowly and painfully up the ramp until he disappeared into the circle of light without hesitation. The moment he faded from view, the shimmering ward collapsed. Hermione stepped across with a nod before looking down at the still, prostrate form of Ramirez.

"Even if you study for the next seventy years, you will never get your magic back, you arrogant bastard," Hermione said. She punctuated her statement with a stomped kick to the fragile old man's groin. He clutched himself and curled into a ball, but Arthur rather thought he was hurting so much from his lost magic he might not even have felt it.

Finally, Arthur became aware of Luna kneeling down in front of him. Her nose and eyes were red, and her cheeks glistened with tears. "I know you think this was the right thing to do," Luna said softly. "You are not a bad person; you wouldn't have done this without reason. But whatever those reasons are, they weren't worth Bill, or your magic. We weren't dark lords, Arthur. We were going to lead the whole planet to a new, wonderful future. But that's all been lost." She leaned over and placed a wet, salty kiss against his cheek.

"I'd ask you to tell your family that we love them," she said. "But you won't see them again. I'm so sorry." Luna then stood and without a second glance walked through the gate. Worst of all, Arthur knew that she believed what she said. Potter's corruption was so thorough his victims didn't even realize they were corrupted.

"Oh my Billy Boy," Arthur whispered, weeping himself before the loss of his magic sent his body into shock and he died. A few minutes later, as General O'Neill and a team of medics rushed out to give aid, Ramirez died as well.

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	4. Lost

A/N: Chap 3 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Lost**

When Hermione Granger was a newly turned seventeen-year-old, she lost herself.

That's not to say she lost her mind, or her soul (although some would argue the latter). No, she lost all control over her own life when Harry returned yet again from what should have been, and for anyone else would have been, death itself.

The most intense memory of her life was the day she abandoned Hogwarts, her friends and her family and walked into the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade in response to Harry's cryptic written message. " _I am not Harry_ ," he told her in a whisper that made every hair on her body stand on end, and her insides burn into mush. " _But much of who and what I am came from him. When I look at you, I see what Harry saw; I see a young woman of stunning beauty and intelligence. I want what he wanted. But I am not Harry, Hermione Granger. I have the rage and power of a Sith Lord within me, and I will stand up for myself, and I will take what I can_."

He took her, and she gave herself to him, lost completely in the overpowered whirlwind which was the newly reborn and remade Harry Potter. She did so because in that one moment of time she could not imagine any type of life without him in it.

Sometimes, in the very few hours of the night when he slept with Luna draped over him, she would sit up and look down at the two of them and wonder if that moment in Hogsmeade was the greatest mistake she'd ever made. Luna seemed always to be the quiet one; the gentle one. Yet Hermione could never forget that it was Luna who killed Nymphadora Tonks to defend Harry after his fight with Bellatrix. It was Luna who helped Harry gather the hundred Muggles for him to perform the _Sed_ of Ramses, even if it was an _Imperiused_ Pansy Parkinson who actually did the dirty work.

"Harry will need this power, Hermione," the supposedly 'moral' center of their triangle explained. "I've seen it."

It was Luna who convinced her to go forward with the creation of the Philosopher's Stones, despite the terrible secret behind its magic. Hermione could not help but smile at the irony of Voldemort's attempts to find the stone during their First Year at Hogwarts, given the stone could only work for its creators. There was a reason no one else had ever made the stone. What Nicholas and Paranelle Flamel surrendered was their progeny, for only by harvesting all of Paranelle's eggs and Nicholas Flamel's testes when they were still young were they able to make the stones.

"It is a balance, you see," Luna explained even as she began working on the spell that would harvest their eggs. "Reproduction is an evolutionary tactic for living things that will one day die. With these stones, we will live forever if we choose, and so there is no need for us to reproduce. The price of immortality is our progeny."

"But Harry…"

"Harry has a different path to immortality," Luna said with that infuriating calm with which she greeted all things. "The elixir will maintain our hormones and our bodies; we will simply not have menses any longer. Surely that's not a bad thing, is it? The cramps are ever such a bother."

Only, it was a bad thing. Though Hermione had never dwelled on the idea of children, in the back of her mind there was always the assumption they would be there. As an only child, she was certain she would have more than one—possibly as many as three or four. But now…

They made the stones. The harvesting spell hurt like nothing she could ever have imagined, but she went through with it because the idea of withering into old age while Harry and Luna remained young and strong was too much for her to bear. But Luna's next suggestion astonished even Hermione—that they imbed the 20 karat stones that their efforts created into the muscle wall of their very hearts. By this time, Harry had returned from South America flush with the same terrible power that allowed Voldemort to tear down the old Ministry of Magic with his bare hands.

"Brilliant," was his only response to the suggestion. Luna did not hesitate to volunteer, and Hermione watched as Harry cast a silent _Transitorus Dermitatus_ without a wand, since his magic was so powerful now no wand, not even the Elder Wand, could channel it. With that magic done, his hands phased easily through Luna's chest with the stone in his fingers, and in their bedroom he magically bound the philosopher's stone into Luna's very heart.

Luna's chest arched in pain when he removed his hand, thus phasing the stone back into the same space as Luna's body. Her face flushed a terrible red color and then she went very still. Hermione remembered thinking of the pensieve memory she had watched of a newly sired vampire being created.

Only, when Luna sat up with brightly flushed cheeks, she bore no fangs, nor did she thirst for blood. "Hermione, it's incredible," she whispered. "I've never felt more alive! You have to do it!"

Hermione was nineteen at the time—Harry and Luna were both eighteen, though Luna had just had her birthday. And yet Hermione felt like a child being led into trouble by older siblings. With the two of them staring expectantly at her, she hesitantly agreed. She never felt Harry's hands pass into her body with her own stone, but she felt it the moment he left the stone in her heart. The pain was sudden and shocking; she had a sudden, gripping shortness of breath and a sharp, spike-like burning that ran up the length of her left arm.

Just moments after the worst rush of the pain, she felt a flush of heat and energy, as if her body were being charged like a battery as the first drops of the elixir left the stone and entered her bloodstream at the source. She sat up with Luna and Harry beaming at her, and in the heat of the magic forgot her concerns and fears as she joined them in a passionate night of lovemaking.

The next morning, though, when she woke fully refreshed after only four hours of sleep, she wondered if she were human at all. She wondered, truthfully, if any of them still were.

~~ Stars Alone~~

~~ Stars Alone~~

When Hermione tumbled from the gate, it was impossible to point to any one thing that sent her crying to her knees. Rather, it was a cumulative effect of everything all at once—the color of the sky, the smell in the air, the temperature around her, and the very feel of the world they stepped onto—and the loss of everything she had ever known.

She cursed her own mind, which grasped onto the true, overwhelming enormity of what just happened far faster than her vulnerable emotions were ready to handle. Suddenly, abruptly, Hermione stood on another world entirely, while the world that birthed her and made her who and what she was fell forever behind her. The sudden transition overwhelmed her Force senses and her emotions in a perfect storm of grief and disorientation that left her weeping helplessly in the dirt by the gate.

Moments later she felt small, trembling arms wrap around her from behind. She felt Luna's face against her spine as the smaller woman's tears soaked into her blood-splattered blouse. Moments later, Hermione heard a thud and looked up to see Harry a few feet away, flat on his back, convulsing with froth at his mouth.

"Oh Merlin!" she cried, terrified. She scrambled out of Luna's grip toward their husband. Luna was half a step behind.

"Hold him down," Hermione ordered as she flicked her wand out of her invisible wrist holster. Luna knelt down with a knee on either side of his head and pressed down on his shoulders while Hermione straddled his thighs and cast her diagnostic charms.

His skin felt cool and clammy to the touch and had a gray pall to it that made her stomach clench with fear. She'd only seen Harry look this way once—after she tried to save him from his Sith conditioning and instead triggered a catastrophic death of personality between the old Harry Potter and the Dark Lord of the Sith who assumed control of his psyche.

"His heartbeat's irregular," she whispered. "Merlin, Luna, I think the pain stopped his heart. I can't…I can't… _elixir!_ Luna, draw some elixir from your chest!"

Luna did not hesitate at all as she pulled her dress open enough to touch her wand to the creamy expanse of her chest just above her breasts. She winced as she drew her wand away from the skin, pulling with it a growing bubble of purple fluid.

"That should be enough," Hermione whispered. "Give it to him."

Luna guided the bubble with her wand until it touched his lips. Instinctively, the magic of the elixir caused his mouth to open and he swallowed it despite the shock of his body. Color rushed across the skin of his face as his convulsions came to a stop.

But he did not wake up.

"Did the elixir work?" Luna asked. She wiped tears with the back of her wrists.

"It healed his body," Hermione said. "And I can sense his magical core has already restored itself, but something is wrong. I can't…I never studied anything like this, Luna. I don't know why he won't wake up."

Hermione didn't even realize she was yelling the last until Luna reached out and took her trembling wand hand. "He's strong," Luna said softly through her own tears. "He's the strongest person we've ever met. If anyone can survive something like that ward, it's Harry. We just need to give him more time."

Hermione took a deep breath, and then with Luna's touch guiding her she slipped into a light, meditative Force trance. It was as effective as any cheering charm Luna could have used to calm her nerves. With a glance at Harry to see if he'd woken and finding he had not, she stood to survey their new environment.

She saw low-hanging clouds over distant mountains, all covered by a seemingly endless temperate forest. For the first time she felt a definite, moist chill in the air that seemed to soak through her thin, blood-splattered blouse. It looked more like Canada than an alien planet. Only, Canada paved its roads. The open area before the gate was not paved, and in fact looked muddy. There were a few primitive-looking huts with unfinished support beams and thatched roofs, but the huts were open-sided with a bar-like shelf filled with foods on display.

Across the wide muddy path she saw a completely anachronistic structure—a building that looked very much like a modern apartment building, only one built a thousand years ago and somehow meticulously maintained.

Nowhere, though, could she spot any people. If she stretched her senses, she could feel them, but she could not see anyone. "Hello?" she asked.

After a few minutes of waiting a single figure in a worn blue dress made of a locally produced fabric stepped out from a copse of trees and cautiously approached. Her hair was wrapped up in a white turban, giving her a frail look. As she grew closer, Hermione guessed the woman was in her forties.

"I don't suppose you speak English, do you?" Hermione said.

"Aangalash?" the woman said.

"No, I suppose not," Hermione whispered. "Luna, you're the linguist."

Luna stood from and stepped around Harry until she stopped before the woman, smiling up at her. The woman smiled hesitantly back, unnerved by Luna's white-blonde hair and silver-blue gaze. Still, she did not flinch when Luna reached up and gently placed a hand against the woman's forehead.

Letting her hand drop, Luna closed her eyes in concentration. In the Force, Hermione could feel her sister in marriage processing the language she was able to obtain with an ease and skill not even Harry could duplicate. Harry could have gathered the language from the woman, but it would have left her as a broken lump on the floor.

The woman continued to watch with a confused expression as Luna turned to Hermione. Though they did not need physical contact it did help, and so Hermione leaned forward and down until her forehead met Luna's. She felt Luna's unique, powerful psyche fill her own mind, pouring the language into her like water into a cup.

The language was Goa'uld, the _lingua franca_ of the known galaxy, according to what they were told before arriving at the Stargate. Now Hermione and Luna both spoke it.

"Can you understand me now?" Hermione asked. The language felt stilted and overly formal on her tongue.

The woman brightened. "I can. Was that…a greeting you did?"

"We are sister wives, bound in marriage to this man," Luna said, having gleaned far more from the woman than Hermione. The language sounded stilted and very formal. "He has been hurt and we need a place to tend him. Do you know of a place we could go for shelter?"

The woman looked from Hermione, to Luna, and finally to the still form of Harry. "You share one man? Is that normal for your people?"

"Not entirely," Hermione admitted with a wry smile. "But it was necessary at the time, and we have grown very close over the years. Can you help us? We are alone, and we're not even sure what world we're on."

"This world is called by the Goa'uld Cartago. I am the Matrona of the Byrsa."

Luna bowed. "Matrona, I am Luna, and this is my sister wife Hermione, and our husband Harry. It is an honor to know you."

The older woman turned and said, "Dar, Fela, come!"

A younger couple rushed from the trees lining the village and with their help, Luna and Hermione carried Harry toward the anachronistic building. Within they came to a large room that looked rather like a courtroom of some kind, but that is not where they stopped. Carrying Harry without magic, they trudged up several flights of stairs until they arrived at a long hall with open doors near the top floor. Within each door was a fair-sized room with a simple cot and what looked an old, rusty sink and toilet, neither of which worked.

"The legends say our ancestors lived here when Lord Apophis first brought them to this world," the Matrona said as they placed Harry on the cot. "It is not much, but it is a safe place for your husband to stay until he is well."

"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely as she sat on the cot next to him. She glanced briefly at Luna before she said, "Matrona, we…we don't have anything of value to trade, but we have nowhere else to go. Is there something we could do in return for food and shelter? We don't want to be a burden, we just…"

"We have nowhere else to go," Luna finished.

"What happened to you?" the older woman asked.

"We were betrayed by those whom we thought loved us," Luna said simply. "They have barred us from our home and tried to kill us."

The matron took Luna's hand and stared at it. "It does not seem you have ever worked before. Your callouses are strange, but not the callouses of someone who works."

"We are accustomed to work," Hermione said. "Our old world had different jobs. But we could learn, and we're not afraid of difficult work."

"And your husband?"

Hermione started to answer, but Luna beat her to it. "Our husband was a warrior, Matrona. He was very skilled, but is now as you see."

The woman shared a worried glance to the younger couple. "Warriors attract unwanted attention."

"He is not going to fight anyone right now," Hermione pointed out. "If you allow us to stay, we will abide by your rules and laws and try to contribute. All we ask is patience from you while we learn your ways."

The Matrona looked at the three of them closely, one face after another, until finally she said, "I will have to discuss this with the elders. Until then, we will bring food. Rest, and you shall know our answer soon."

"Thank you," Hermione said. Luna echoed the sentiment.

The three Byrsa left Hermione and Luna alone with an unconscious Harry. "It feels so odd having to beg for food and shelter," Hermione whispered. "We were trillionaires on Earth, greeted by kings and presidents as peers."

"And now we're penniless refugees," Luna finished the thought. She pulled her knees up to her chin, and in that moment she looked very young. "I hope they don't hurt Lawrence Bartleby, or the rest of our people."

"Lawrence will be a target," Hermione agreed. "He'll have activated the failsafe protocols the moment our transponders left Earth. Imagine the surprise of all our employees when they receive million-pound severance checks."

"Or the anguish of our clients when all of our technology self-destructs," Luna said absently. She reached up and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I should have known, Hermione. I saw the gate in my dreams—I knew it was a trap. I should have seen it before Harry walked through."

Hermione scooted over, and with surprisingly little effort lifted Luna onto her lap. "I'm not sure it would have mattered in the end, Luna. They knew. Somehow, they knew everything we'd done, good and bad."

"We were going to save the world."

"We were going to conquer it," Hermione said bluntly. "We would have conquered it with economics, but all three of us knew that at some point or another the world leadership would figure out what was happening and take action against us. We just always assumed we would have more time to prepare ourselves. Remember your visions, when you first joined us?"

"There was still blood, but not as much." Luna remembered aloud.

"We weren't ready for a world-war," Hermione continued. "Especially not a world where wizards and Muggles worked hand-in-hand against us. We always planned on having a unified magical world behind us. Without that, we could never have won."

"Harry could have," Luna whispered into Hermione's chest.

"But at what cost? He would have destroyed the world to rule over its ashes. That's exactly what we didn't want."

"I know." Luna sniffed her nose again. "I just want… we're never going to see them again, Hermione. Not Ginny, or Ronald and Martha, or their babies. My Daddy…"

Hermione said nothing, but secretly thought the same thing about her own parents. Instead, she rocked Luna in her lap like she would a child and wept her own tears, while Harry lay motionless in bed.

Unfortunately, there was only so much grieving one could do. Eventually the need to move overtook the need to grieve, spurred by Hermione more so. Luna could mope and grieve for days on end; Hermione's limit was twenty minutes.

"This room as a mess," Hermione announced over Luna's head.

"I don't feel like cleaning."

"It'll be good to get up and move."

"I don't care."

Hermione ran a hand down Luna's shoulders until she reached her ribs, and started tickling. Luna slid off Hermione's lap, her face warping between a stifled laugh and outrage. "Stop it."

"Let's clean," Hermione said.

"I don't want to."

Hermione cast a tickling charm which Luna batted away. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I did!"

What followed as a duel of the ages, comprised of cheering and tickling charms, with an occasional _tarantella_ or legs-locker jinx thrown in for good measure. The air filled with bright, bubbly magic as Hermione tried to cheer Luna up, and Luna tried her best to prevent it. Of course, both knew the duel itself was enough, but to admit it would eliminate the need for the duel itself, and so it continued for almost half an hour until the _Matrona_ walked into the room and received a full-powered cheering charm to the face and a _tarantella_ jinx to her legs. The end result was raucous laughter accompanied by frenzied, uncontrollable dancing.

Hermione cast a silent _finite_ and the Matrona collapsed to the floor, her be-spelled laughter turning into cries of horror. "Witches!" she cried. "You are witches! We've let evil into our midst! I must tell the others, I must…"

She slumped to the floor unconscious when Hermione's light stunner struck. She and Luna shared a long, wide-eyed look before Hermione ran out into the hall to see if she was alone. Unfortunately, the young couple from before was in the hall. They took a look at Hermione before turning to run toward the stairs.

A pop of apparition later and Hermione cut them both off with two more quick stunners. She levitated the two back into their room where she saw Luna kneeling down with her hand on the Matrona's forehead, eyes closed.

"What can you sense?"

Luna looked up and, with wide eyes, said, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

"They believe that?"

"Yes, but not because they are Christian," Luna said. She settled back on her haunches with a defeated look on her face. "Hermione, it is their oldest law, and was set by the Supreme System Lord Ra himself. These people hate the Goa'uld, but they don't dare violate Ra's oldest law."

Hermione looked back at Harry, then at the three Byrsa. "We're going to have to _obliviate_ them."

"The thought occurred to me," Luna said waspishly. It was an indication of how upset Luna was that she used sarcasm. She did not as a rule like sarcasm, nor the purveyors of sarcastic wit.

Oddly enough, while Luna was far better at _legillimency_ than any of them, she was pants at _oblivations_ , so Hermione _obliviated_ all three of the natives. Before waking them, though, she said, "While we're here, we won't be able to use magic at all."

"At least not until Harry wakes," Luna agreed.

Hermione levitated the two back into the hallway and woke them both with _finite_ charms before _apparating_ back to their room. They woke the Matrona next and helped her to her feet.

"What happened?" she asked, confused.

"It was my fault," Hermione said, speaking quickly as if afraid. "We were trying to cheer ourselves up and wrestling and we bumped into you. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, child," the Matrona said, blinking as she struggled to recall the event. "I must be getting old. So, we have spoken and agreed that you and your husband may stay here. We will provide food and clothing for you while you stay, if you are willing to assist us with our daily work."

"Thank you!" Hermione said. She smiled, but inside relief warred with guilt. "We'll be sure to work very hard!"

"Then you will be welcome here," the Matrona said.


	5. When in Rome

A/N: Chap 4 review responses are in my forums like normal. One review sarcastically anticipated a multi-chapter arc of Hermione and Luna sitting around knitting in wooden huts. Generally one chapters enough to establish a world and that's what this chapter is. Of course, that's the joy of SG-world building every week. For anyone interested, the Byrsa and their world were featured in the sixth episode of Season One of Stargate: SG-1, titled Cor-ai.

* * *

 **Chapter Five: When In Rome**

The Byrsa, as the people who lived on Cartago named themselves, did not live in the village.

This became apparent on Hermione's first day of 'work'. She was paired with a sturdily built young girl of maybe fourteen with long, mousy brown hair which she used to hide her unremarkable features. She did not speak more than ten words to Hermione, which included her name of Tannin. She came with a clay pot filled with a thick, steaming stew, and a long, square roll of unleavened bread.

"After you eat, come down," Tannin said before she left.

The stew was certainly not what the two girls were accustomed to for breakfast, but after a long, cold and hungry night curled up on the bed with Harry, it was warm and filling. They tried to feed Harry, but he would not wake and they did not dare put it in his mouth for fear of choking him. He did swallow a little conjured water, but that was it.

After the girls ate, Luna elected to stay with Harry while Hermione went down to do a day's work for their food. She found Tannin waiting at the mouth of the building and followed her through the strange, mostly empty village and down a long road until they arrived at a large field of grain.

Dozens upon dozens of Byrsa were already among the plants, some wielding great metal scythes. These devices were not like the scythes Hermione had seen in her books, but rather were made of a long, curved blade followed by four equally long but unsharpened metal fingers after it. The men further down the field swung the huge scythes, and what the blade cut, the large fingers that followed caught it and allowed the farmer to easily place the wheat in a single pile behind him without him having to bend over too far.

A quick search revealed an even dozen of the scythe-wielding men moving down the long rows of wheat. Behind them came the women, gathering up the cut stalks and tying them together in large bundles which they sat upright to dry in the cool breeze. To Hermione, it felt as if she were staring at something from the distant past.

Tannin thrust a handful of thinly cut leather strips to Hermione. "Come," she said.

Hermione forced a smile against what promised to be a long and painful day. Nor was she wrong. Within the first ten minutes her hands were bleeding from handling the rough stalks, and within twenty her back and hamstrings ached as badly as if she'd just spent the day sparring with Harry. If not for the extraordinary recuperative powers of the Philosopher's Stone embedded within her heart and the Force, she was sure her hands would have been ground into hamburger within the first hour. Even with the healing _elixir_ , however, she still suffered with each new prick or tear.

She worked through the pain by drawing heavily on the Force and her own conditioning. One did not spar for hours at a time with a former Sith Lord without gaining a certain physical stamina. If she were just an ordinary woman—even an ordinary witch—she would have lasted only an hour or two.

Looking around at the women around her, she saw that they bore similar traits to each other. There were no skinny, supermodel figures moving about. Tannin's robust build was typical because those builds were the ones that survived. Some of the older women had heavy bustlines, but also wide hips that usually went with large breasts. Hermione was without a doubt the thinnest, daintiest figure in the field.

The women paused for water every hour, and close to noon Tannin handed her a pouch that contained a trail mix of foreign berries and nuts. By the end of a very long day, Hermione was conscious of many eyes on her, but she carried on alongside Tannin. Despite the Force and magic, she still could barely move when a gentle hand touched her shoulder.

With effort, she straightened and found herself facing the Matrona. "It is time to rest, child," the older woman said with a smile. "When I saw your hands, I did not think you accustomed to work. You have surprised many. The harvest is among our hardest tasks."

"I was glad to help," Hermione said, though she could not force a smile. "I'm not sure my sister will do as well tomorrow."

"You change days?"

"One of us must remain by our husband. The other will always work."

"That is as it must be. I have food and drink for you and your family." Hermione looked around in the fading sun and saw that they had cleared at least a dozen acres, with rows of wheat shocks lining their way.

"How long do you let the grain dry?"

"A fortnight. Then we thresh it to remove the chaff. We grow far more than we need so that we have offerings for the Lord Ra."

"Lord Ra?" Hermione said. "But I thought… I see." She caught herself quickly. "It is important, then."

"Very."

The Matrona led Hermione to a simple wheeled cart that was hitched to a large, woolen beast that looked like a cross between a female moose and a Mini-Cooper-sized sheep. In the back of the cart she saw a mesh bag laden with more clay pots.

"Beer and stew for your family," the matron said. "You acquitted yourself well, and have earned a share for your family."

The mesh bag was heavy, but Hermione felt grateful regardless. "Thank you, Matrona. Are there other tasks that Luna may perform? She is slight of build, but has very quick and nimble hands."

"We shall see. Sleep you well, child."

Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, Hermione nodded and walked tiredly back to the strange, anachronistic building that evidently dated back to the first human habitation on the planet. She trudged tiredly up the stairs and down the hall until she came to the only door in the hall way. Hesitantly, she opened it to reveal a far different space than what she left that morning.

For one, the room sparkled with surfaces that were clean for the first time in ages. The walls were not wood or plaster, but from the sheen were instead metal. The thin cot was now a king-sized bed composed of three cots placed together with a heavily transfigured mattress. Harry lay in the exact center, now stripped down to his forest green boxers with a light blanket over him. In a corner of the room stood a porcelain tub already filled with steaming water, while near it was a folding space divider that separated the toilet and vanity from the rest of the room.

"You've been busy," Hermione noted.

"Oh, hello," Luna said as she finished carving runes on the sink in what now appeared to be a kitchenette area. "Yes, as you noted last night, it helped to keep busy. Is that food? I'm quite hungry."

Hermione nodded and handed the bag over before she drifted to the bath. She was not even aware of her torn, dirty slacks and blouse falling from her body, or the underclothes that followed, but she was suitably naked as she climbed into the blissfully warm water.

"Oh, bless you, Luna," she whispered.

Luna came and sat beside her with a gallon-sized pot. "This is the foulest-tasting beer I've ever had."

Hermione closed her eyes as she soaked tired, sore muscles. "In ancient Egypt, beer was a staple of their diet. The Pharaohs paid the pyramid workers in beer credits, and some researchers think the beer contained natural antibiotics."

"It still tastes like piss."

Hermione took the glazed pot and took a swig. "Bah, you're right. Drink it anyway, I worked my ass of for it."

"I know," Luna said, more quietly this time. "Harry did not stir at all. I think his magic is sustaining his body. I tried feeling his mind, but…"

"It's not there," Hermione guessed. "After his death of personality, back when he overcame Shaddix, he seemed to be completely brain dead. And yet, somehow, he came back. I don't know what happened to him with that ward matrix, but it must have been terrible. Eventually, though, he'll come back to us."

"How do you know?"

"He has to," Hermione said with simple, desperate need.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Because it was her turn to work, Luna was first to wake. The alarm spell chirped in her ear loud enough that she could not ignore it, but not so loud as to hurt. She sighed, opened her eyes, and stared at Harry's still profile. She could make out a few tufts of Hermione's hair on the other side of him, which, absent a good conditioner, was starting to frizz and become bushy again. However, her concentration was on Harry alone.

She felt a sudden, grinding need to make love to him. The fact she could not felt almost like a physical pain. "Wake up soon, love," she whispered. "We're lost without you."

Tannin came again a few minutes later, this time with a confused, curious look at the door she knocked on. Luna answered, but did not open the door all the way. "Good morning, Tannin," she said, as if she'd been friends with the girl for years.

"Where did this door come from?"

"Another room, where it had fallen," Luna said, speaking a simple truth. "I fixed it because of the breeze through this hall at night. It feels like winter is coming soon."

"It is," Tannin confirmed. She handed over a container of food for the morning. "I will wait for you."

"Thank you."

By the time Luna closed the door, Hermione was already up and finger-combing her wild tresses. "Food?"

"More stew and flat bread. I must say, I like the bread. It tastes rather like Afghan bread."

"And considering they don't use utensils, it helps to actually eat," Hermione muttered. "Unless we conjure spoons."

After their morning meal, Luna walked down the six flights of stairs brimming with curiosity. Unlike Hermione, Luna grew up in an agricultural home, in the sense that magical families often grew their own food in magically expanded gardens. Granted, magic saved a great deal of time, and sexual fertility rituals usually ensured good crops, but Luna remembered spending many hours in their gardens as a little girl helping her mother plant, care for, and harvest food. She even snuck out once to watch them do the fertility blessing one night when she was seven.

Once outside in the wan light of early morning, she noticed how Tannin spent the entire walk glancing furtively at Luna's hair. Luna held up a strand. "It is real," she said simply. "My father's hair was a similar shade."

"May I touch it?"

"Of course."

Thickly calloused fingers ran gently over Luna's locks. "It is so fine, like a baby's hair!"

"Not for long, I bet," Luna said. "Shall I be harvesting today, flailing, or threshing?"

"Oh, girls do not flail, ever," Tannin said with wide eyes. "It is forbidden for us to even touch the flail. We are nearly finished with the wheat fields. Today we shall harvest the tago."

Tago, it turned out, were large beans that grew in five-inch long pods on weed-like stalks that bristled with spikes and thorns. Unlike the wheat fields they walked past, the tago fields covered only a hectare or two, and the harvesting actually went on for two weeks as pods matured and were pulled off.

Luna felt pleased when Tannin handed her a pair of coarse leather work gloves sewn together with strings of animal tendon. She accepted the gloves gratefully, took the bag which slung over her shoulder, and without comment set to work where Tannin pointed. It wasn't quite like what she did with her mother as a little girl, but close enough that she worked with a dreamy smile as she remembered the good times that she had before her mother died.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The Byrsa held a harvest festival when the last of the wheat was threshed and ready for grinding. All the vegetables were harvested and pickled for winter, all the woolly moose stabled and sheltered from the cold, and the first frost was on the ground.

After placing protective wards around their room to ensure Harry was not disturbed, Hermione and Luna accepted Tannin's shy invitation to attend the festival. It was the two young women's first real glimpse at Byrsa culture.

They had no musical instruments, but sang songs from memory that rivaled the best choirs Hermione had ever heard. Every Byrsa seemed able to sing, though in retrospect some of it might have been less talent than enthusiasm and a freedom from embarrassment that impressed the young English women.

There were also a _lot_ more Byrsa that Hermione or Luna had ever seen before. Bonfires ranged across the now fallow fields as thousands of people moved from fire to fire, greeting each other. Hermione and Luna, gifted simple coarse dresses made from a local cotton, followed Tannin closely as they too mingled. Luna wore her hair hidden under a simple turban much like the Matrona, and for that matter so did Hermione. It was a common fashion among the older women, and Hermione began to think it was a symbol of marriage.

She thought this because many young men paid suit to Tannin whose hair was loose, but did not even glance at Hermione or Luna beyond a brief look at their turbans. At some point, after Tannin refused the advances of her sixth potential suitor, Hermione asked, "If we weren't with you, what would you do?"

Tannin looked down at her sandals. "Perhaps I would dance with them. If I liked them, I might accept their gifts. If my mother thought their gifts worthy, she might discuss with his mother a bonding."

Hermione knew better than to comment on Tannin's age. She knew in most agricultural cultures Tannin was considered a woman suitable for marriage, and given Hermione herself was only seventeen when she married Harry, she felt she had no room to criticize anyone. "Are you interested in any of them?"

The young girl's blush looked adorable. "There is one boy. He has strong hands."

"Has he come this evening?" Luna asked.

"He has, twice. But I must stay with you." It was the closest admission to her role as their keepers as they had heard.

Hermione started looking around for turbans and found a clump sitting around a distant fire. "Those women are all bonded, aren't they?"

"Yes," Tannin said.

"Then that is where we will be," Hermione decided. "If you need to find us, go there. In the meantime, find your young man with his strong hands, and dance."

Tannin appeared torn between desire and duty, but made no move to stop them as the two young women left her for the bonfire surrounded by married women. At first they seemed friendly enough until Hermione and Luna came close enough for them to see their faces.

One of the older women with stooped shoulders, curled arthritic hands and a handful of teeth hissed. "Why are you here?"

The hostility caught Hermione off guard, since it was the first she'd seen since they had to _obliviate_ the Matrona. She started to answer when Luna stepped forward. To Hermione's surprise Luna curtsied low, holding her skirt off the dirt of the field as she did so. "We meant no disrespect, Elder. We are both bonded by the customs of our people. Young Tannin was forced to turn many suitors away to stay with us, and we felt this was not fair for her. And so we promised to come here and stay until she was ready to leave."

As always, Hermione felt astonishment at just how much Luna could glean from the minds around her.

"That was not your decision to make!" the old woman said.

"Is it not?" Luna asked. Hermione realized Luna was scanning the woman even as they spoke, and was gauging her answers accordingly. "We are not Byrsa, but we have worked for the food we have received. Our hands have bled like yours have. We have not turned away any task given, and have tried our best to honor your traditions—including the traditions of your youth on this night. If you wish us to leave, we will do so. We only ask that young Tannin not be made to suffer for something that was _our_ decision."

A younger woman, who was still likely ten years older than either of the girls, stepped up to the side of the old crone. "It was the Matrona who tasked Tannin to watch you."

"It looks like she still is," Hermione noted, pointing to a nearby crowd of dancing youths. Tannin had her young man and the two danced a whirling, frenetic dance while around them other youths kept a beat with their hands and feet while singing a fast song. Every few moments, though, the girl's eyes darted to the bonfire.

"It was a cruel task during harvest," the younger woman admitted.

"It is not ours to set aside a given task," the older woman said.

"If we are not welcome, we will leave," Luna said. "We are deeply grateful that the Matrona has given us shelter and opportunity to earn food and these dresses. We do not wish to offend."

As if sensing a potential conflict, the Matrona herself arrived, flushed from dancing. Hermione thought it strange how segregated the genders were, save for the dancing. Otherwise, men and women went to their own bonfires.

"There is no offense given or received," the Matrona said, slightly out of breath. "It was a hard task for a girl of age during harvest, and I accept it as a kindness that you attempted to give her leave for her suitors. Tannin is a beautiful child and is well-sought after. If you wish, you may join us here."

Luna curtsied again—a proper pureblood witch's curtsey that apparently was universal. Hermione followed suit. "Thank you, Matrona," Luna said. "We would be happy to do so."

Some of the other elders made room on a length of cut timber they used for seating, and the two young foreigners sat. It was only then that they saw the clay pots being passed around from woman to woman. When it made its way to Hermione, she smelled a strong, earthy scent emanating from the bottle. With a glance at Luna, and fully aware of the eyes of the other women on her, Hermione took a swig. It took all her control not to gag at the thick, viscous fluid in her mouth. It tasted sour and cloying, almost like drinking old cottage cheese.

It was only after she passed it to Luna that she felt a sudden heat in her stomach and realized that the drink was _very_ alcoholic. When the dizziness and sense of euphoria struck, she knew it was in fact more than just alcoholic—there must have been some type of psychotropic ingredient as well. No wonder only married women were around this bonfire!

"Since you have joined us, I think this would be a good time for us to learn more about you," the Matrona said with a happy smile. Her words seemed to echo in Hermione's ears. "Can you tell us where you are from?"

"England," Hermione said, choosing the easiest truth while she tried every Force technique Harry taught her to negate the effects of the drink. Did they drink this all the time? Is that why they weren't affected?

"What gods did this England pay worship to?"

A corner of Hermione's mind recognized this as a very, very important question. Before she could answer, though, Luna said, "Many gods have ruled our people over the years. Great Ra was among the first. Others came after him—Cronus and later Zeus, Moloc and Apophis. For this reason we accept all. It is never wise to spite any god, regardless."

Hermione fought down a sudden urge to snog Luna senseless. Despite the drugged…whatever the bloody hell it was…Luna gave the women exactly the answer they wanted.

The old, withered crone said, "How came you to share a husband?"

Again, Luna answered before Hermione could. "Our husband was a great warrior, more powerful than any Jaffa, but torn by a need to destroy. Our god was wise and just, and saw if one woman could slow his need to destroy, two could still it entirely and make him the perfect, loyal warrior. And so we were gifted to him." Hermione could only stare as Luna somehow managed to summon real tears to her eyes. "We were so grateful to our god for his wisdom. Our Harry is a good husband, and none of us have ever felt it a burden to be together. We pray every night to all the gods that he might be delivered back to us."

Some of the women surreptitiously wiped their eyes, swayed by Luna's performance.

"Tell us, child, how did he come to be injured?"

"Treachery," Hermione almost snarled. With her defenses weakened by the drink, she could not stop herself.

"Treachery," Luna agreed, coming to her rescue. "Others saw the blessing given us, and grew jealous. While our god was elsewhere, they poisoned our husband and tried to kill us. We fled through the stargate, not even knowing for sure where we were going, until we came here."

"Will you petition your god to be restored?" This was one of the other women Hermione remembered seeing while working in the wheat fields.

Luna, though, shook her head. "We were defeated. Whether through treachery or not, we showed weakness. Our Lord does not abide failure, and will not raise a hand to restore those who cannot restore themselves. Perhaps, when our husband wakes, we will return and restore ourselves, but we are not worthy enough to expect our Lord to do so for us."

"Wise words," the Matrona said. "When one begs the gods for blessings, it is often accompanied by a curse as well."

Luna nodded happily. "Exactly!"

She then fell over, face first, into the dirt. Rather than be alarmed, the other women laughed as Hermione leaned down to lift Luna back up. Luna, flushed, blinked. "What happened? Why do I taste dirt?"

"You are tired, I see," the Matrona said. "Come, while Tannin dances I will walk you back to your room."

Luna clung tight to Hermione, which made walking even more of a challenge since Hermione could barely walk straight. "That was a strong drink," Hermione noted as they finally started trudging up the stairs.

"It is called _asha'ka palsa_ — _the happy truth_. Only the elders may drink it, and only during harvest. Now that you have drunk it, and we have more knowledge of you, you will find others more accepting of you."

"Oh, good," Hermione said absently as Luna stumbled on a step. They reached their door and she could see the mild compulsion wards working on the Matrona already. The woman slowed and appeared to want to go no further. "Tomorrow is a holy day, so you both may rest. And the day after that is the Day of Offering."

"Okay, thank you."

"Rest." With that, the Matrona turned and left. Hermione took Luna inside, and almost as soon as the door closed she found her sister wife with her arms around her neck, her lips pressed to hers.

Ordinarily she did no more than kiss or hug Luna—Harry was enough to satisfy any wants. However, shefelt a desperate urgency in the kiss and made no effort to stop Luna as she began taking off their dresses.

Afterward, curled up and spooning under the sheets beside Harry, Hermione said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"We were set up," Luna whispered. "It was a test, I'm sure of it. The Matrona would have come to whichever fire we picked. If we did not pick one, then Tannin would have eventually been more open about her desire to dance and would have asked us to go to one."

The shudder than ran through Luna's smaller body caused Hermione to cold her tighter. "What?"

"They're not our friends, Hermione," Luna said in a small voice. "They fear outsiders. Theirs is a jealous and demanding god, and they will not do anything to risk his wrath. I fear they're going to betray us."

"Have you seen it?"

"No," Luna said. "I just believe it. My vision has been…I can't see clearly because all I think of is Harry falling down."

Hermione said nothing as Luna sobbed and reached up with one hand to touch Harry's cheek. "Why won't he come back to us, Hermione? I need him so much, but he won't wake up!"

Perhaps it was the drink, but Hermione couldn't stop her own tears from flowing. The two made love again there beside their husband. In each of their minds, they pretended the other was him.


	6. Offerings

Chap 5 review responses are in my forums. Also at the end of this chapter is a brief note regarding my approach to the Goa'uld in Stargate for anyone who cares.

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Offerings**

Hermione had a bad feeling when she woke up on the Day of Offering two days later. She woke first and saw weak winter sunlight shining through the narrow window of the room. While Luna cleaned the inside, they could not clean the outside without causing too much attention, and so it formed a translucent strip that allowed in dim light, but nothing else.

Moments later Luna also woke. "Something isn't right," she said. "Tannin should have come for us by now."

Both women climbed out of bed. Hermione checked their wards while Luna levitated Harry's still sleeping body in order to clothe him. When he was covered, they dressed as well. Using simple charms, they had divided the Byrsa dresses into loose-fitted _culottes_ -like pant-skirts that allowed more freedom of movement, and hid the pockets the two sewed into them.

They climbed into them now, and when they were dressed both women gathered the food they had been hoarding under stasis charms and shrank it down to fit into the pockets.

"Should we stay or go?" Luna asked.

"Where would we go?" Hermione asked. "There are almost two billion possible Stargate addresses. We could randomly dial for the rest of our lives and never find a single connection. Stay here under the wards for now and I'll go see if I can get a viable address out of the Matrona."

Before leaving, Hermione reached underneath the sink, which Luna had charmed to conjure and then banish water as if it were connected to working plumbing, and grabbed the lightsaber she hid there. She had her wand as always in its charmed, invisible forearm holster.

Luna sat down next to the still unconscious form of their husband and watched with worried eyes as Hermione left the room.

When Hermione stepped out into the hallway she was surprised to see Tannin sitting in the hallway waiting for her. The Byrsa girl frowned when she saw the foreign woman. "You should not be out."

"Why not?"

Tannin merely shrugged.

Hermione, deciding she would not get any answers from the girl, continued down the hall. She was surprised that Tannin did not follow, but when she reached the stairs she saw why. Another Byrsa waited in the stairs—a young man of twenty wearing a cloth hat. He jumped a little when she emerged from the hall but said nothing as she made her way down the stairs.

She felt his gaze on her back but felt no overtly hostile intent in his Force presence. He was there to guard, but evidently not to stop her from leaving the building. When she reached the ground floor with its seating and the wooden ring in the center, she was surprised to see even more people waiting. They also were younger, fit men in the same odd cloth hats. They stood near the walls behind the benches of the floors odd platform with their hands behind their backs. Though they tried to keep the items hidden, Hermione could see they carried weapons—dart throwers, maybe.

Emerging from the building, Hermione saw a thin coating of snow on the ground, and near the gate itself, dozens of massive, fired clay pots filled with grains, vegetables and legumes. Judging from the fields and her own work, Hermione estimated that almost a quarter of the Byrsa's combined crops were assembled in rows before the Stargate.

The Day of Offering. Hermione's stomach clenched into a tight knot when she realized that a Goa'uld was coming to this world, on this very day. And knowing what she knew…food would not be the only thing offered.

"You should not be out."

Hermione turned to face the Matrona and nodded curtly. "You're right. When Tannin did not fetch us I became curious. I will return to our room if you have no need of me."

"We will in time," the Matrona said with a thin smile that did not extend to her eyes. "But for now I agree it is best that you return to your room."

Harry's odd luck must have rubbed off on Hermione over the years, because at that very instant the ring began to spin and thrum with an incoming wormhole. The Matrona sighed. "It appears I was wrong, we will have need of you now."

"I do not think I should be here," Hermione said. She started to back away when the Matrona grabbed her arm. She stiffened and looked the older woman in the face. "We are grateful for the food and shelter, Matrona," Hermione said softly. "For that alone, I beg that you don't force me to hurt you or your people."

Hermione sensed the male presence coming up behind her, but did not break eye-contact with the Matrona. "It is necessary," the older woman said, not even bothering to deny what was coming. "The offering must be made. Better you than our own people."

The man behind her lurched forward to wrap his arms around her. She bowed low and swung her elbow up hard into his stomach, then grabbed his wrist and flipped him into the snowy mud. The Matrona stepped back, shock evident on her face to find their largest man put down by a girl half his size.

It became painfully obvious as more men rushed Hermione that the Byrsa were not a militant people. Their charges were clumsy and hesitant, as if they were secretly afraid of actually touching a girl in anger. The little part of her brain that never shut off analyzed the hesitation as a comment on the matriarchal nature of their society. The trained part of her told her other part to shut the hell up and dodge.

Even without touching the Force and magic, it was easy to swerve away from the rush. A heel kick to the back of the knee put one man down, while a pair of precise kidney punches downed two others. She was not the sixteen-year-old girl Death Eaters liked to torment in Hogwarts, not any more. She had seven years of intense training not just in the Force arts, but in _Teras Kasi_ , the martial arts of both Jedi and Sith.

Two men rushed from the building, and in their hands Hermione finally saw their weapons and had to fight not to laugh. They carried small, hand-held dart throwers that were simply too diminutive to be called cross-bows. It was possible they might have been poisoned—probable, even, given the darts themselves would not stop a baby. But still…

A flip, a somersault and a wide kick had both dart throwers on the ground, and a pair of punches put the men down right after them. She continued running toward the building with the intent of joining Luna when a surge of warning in the Force sent her diving to her left.

Only then did she hear the snap- _crack_ of a staff weapon, and saw the bolt that would have struck her in the back striking the wall of the building instead. She rolled to her feet and saw that the whole situation had changed. The Matrona and all other Byrsa were on their knees, heads bowed almost to the snow, while over them stood a figure in a steel skull cap with ornate golden armor and a long, crimson cape falling from his shoulders. All around him stood hulking, armored Jaffa warriors, at least two dozen, with staff weapons pointed directly at her.

"Oh bugger," she muttered.

The one who originally fired lifted his weapon again, and this time Hermione decided not to play. The _crack_ of her disapparation was drowned out by the sound of the weapon.

She appeared right in front of Tannin. The younger girl scrambled to her feet and started to shout a warning until Hermione slugged her in the stomach to still the cry, and then cursed her with a stunner to put her to sleep.

She ran to the door, but Luna had already opened it. "I heard the gate opening."

"They were going to give us to the Goa'uld as offerings!" Hermione said.

Luna turned and rushed back into the room. Moments later she returned with Harry tossed over her shoulder like a sack of tago beans. A feather light charm made it possible, though his sheer bulk still caused the petite girl trouble. "You're the better fighter," Luna said when Hermione offered to take him.

Shouted voices rang up the stairs as the Jaffa came. "Decision time, fight or flee?"

"Both," Hermione said. "Let's get to the Gate and try to take the Goa'uld. Maybe we can get an address out of him."

Luna agreed, and together the two apparated just as the Jaffa emerged onto the floor. The two appeared with a loud crack on the ground just feet away from the Goa'uld, who turned and stared in surprise at their appearance. The surprise did not last long before Jaffa rushed them.

Hermione ignited her lightsaber and slashed at the first, only to receive the shock of her life. Her lightsaber did not cut through the man's staff! It did not scorch it all, though her saber did make an odd spark at the contact she'd never seen before.

"Infidel witch!" the Jaffa shouted as he brought his staff up and around to strike her. He moved faster than anyone she had ever fought against except Harry and Luna, and it was only through the Force that she was able to dodge the blow. A side kick to the man's face sent him stumbling back and bought Hermione enough time to switch tactics. The next Jaffa who charged swung his staff weapon overhead in a blow that would have easily cracked her skull.

She side-stepped in and swung her saber low. The blade sliced through the chain mail that covered the back of his right knee and took the limb off with a single swipe. His scream died abruptly as her second blow took his head.

The other Jaffa slowed while behind them the Byrsa stared in utter shock at anyone who would dare try, much less succeed, in killing Jaffa. "You're deaths will last for eons," the Goa'uld said. His eyes took on a deep white glow and his voice doubled, as if two speakers formed the words. "Jaffa, _kree_!"

Two Jaffa behind him brought their weapons up and fired. Hermione, immersed completely within the Force, blocked both bolts of yellow energy and sent them right back at those who fired. Both men fell back dead by their own weapons.

The other Jaffa took this not as a warning, but a challenge. Two dozen dropped to their knees, brought their weapons up to their shoulders like RPGs, and began to fire. Hermione braced herself, but a shimmering blue shield formed around her. She turned briefly to see Luna holding her wand with both hands, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

"I can't hold it," she groaned. "The weapons are too powerful!"

"You won't have to," Hermione said. With a pop, she apparated right behind the Goa'uld, intending to grab him and force a surrender.

She did not account for the alien's personal shield. The air shimmered as it blocked her attempt to grab him, and somehow it deflected her lightsaber as well. The shield shocked her into immobility for a split second, and it was all the Goa'uld needed. Moving faster than any human, he spun around and raised his palm to her forehead. She had a brief glimpse of fey orange light emerging from a crystal in the center of his palm before a terrible pain struck and she lost herself in darkness.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Hermione woke up to cold stone pressing against her bare back and buttocks. She felt cold air passing over her nipples and pubic hair. She tried her best to move but failed. Something was holding her down—it didn't feel magical, nor was it any drug she knew of. It felt as if something had disconnected her brain from her muscles, but not the nerves that allowed her to feel the cold on her backside, or the smooth hand that was trailing down her body from her neck to her privates.

"This one is unlike the others, my love," a double-toned voice said. "Come and test her to see if she is to your liking. She fought well and would make a powerful host when you steal away her secrets."

The two Goa'uld moved within Hermione's view. The one man had a Mediterranean or Hispanic complexion—it was the man in the skull cap from Cartago. Beside him came a pale woman with long, stringy black hair. There was an odd, almost plastic sheen to her skin, and Hermione had the impression she was not well at all.

She blinked down at Hermione without a glow to her eyes, though her voice did have the echo. "She looks different. Does her body please you?"

"It does," the male Goa'uld said. It was he who had been running his hands over her body. "Better than the other."

The woman stared blankly over Hermione at something out of her field of vision. "That other one is ugly. Her eyes are too big, and she has the body of a boy. The yellow-white hair is off-putting."

A spark of outrage momentarily overcame Hermione's fear. She knew they were talking about Luna. Luna was never a voluptuous girl—she remained lithe even into her twenties. Nor was hers a classical beauty. And yet both Harry and she agreed that Luna was beautiful. For this thing to insult her so casually made Hermione furious. Unfortunately, she could do nothing to strike back. Whatever held her down seemed also to separate her from the Force and her magic.

"And what of our son?" the sickly Goa'uld said.

"He has yet to wake, but the host was damaged. When he has repaired the damage, he shall join us."

Sickly Woman nodded. "I will take this one, Beloved Husband. I tire of this weak body. With a new host, I shall be strong enough to spawn again."

"So shall it be, my beloved Amaunet. Take her now. Bra'tac, kill the spare."

Hermione used the only muscles that seemed to be under her control and closed her eyes when she heard the sickening, wet thud of a knife violating flesh. She hoped and prayed that Luna's philosopher's stone would sustain her against the injury. Then something else registered— _they had implanted a Goa'uld in Harry_!

Before she could pursue those horrible thoughts, the sickly woman leaned over her as if to kiss her. Except her mouth was wide open and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Hermione wanted to scream so badly, but she could not even control her own lungs. She could see the serpent-like Goa'uld tear its way out of the back of the old host's throat. Blood dripped from the torn flesh onto Hermione's lips. She did not even have enough muscle control to purse her lips against the hot fluid.

The serpent hissed as it hung half-out of the already dying host's mouth. It was the male Goa'uld himself who gripped Hermione's chin and forced her mouth wide open. "Enter her, my love," the monster said.

Hermione could not even constrict her throat as she felt the blood-slimed snake slither between her teeth. The fins scratched the roof of her mouth, but that was nothing compared to the moment when the Goa'uld tore through the flesh at the back of her throat in order to attach itself to her spine. Almost immediately she could feel the horrid, alien presence in her mind, seeping through her memories and consciousness like an insidious cancer.

She fought and screamed, sheltering her consciousness within a shield of _legillimancy_ , but she was never as skilled at the mental arts as Harry or Luna, and though it was a mental art, it was a mental art powered by her magic. She was magically very powerful, but she'd had no power augmentation like Harry. Her power was in the upper range of a normal witch; and the intruding intelligence felt powerful. So powerful, in fact, its tendrils easily broke through her _legillimancy_ and started to touch her consciousness directly with foul, soul-rending ease.

The philosopher's stone, driven by her heart rate, began pumping out the _Elixir of Life_ in response to her distress and the fluctuations of her magic.

Whatever field was holding Hermione down must have been deactivated the moment the Goa'uld entered her. When her back arched and she screamed, nothing stopped her from doing so. The sound was alien even in her own ears, and she realized with a distant sense of shock that it was not she who was screaming, but the Goa'uld within her.

"What is it, beloved?" the male Goa'uld said, eyes blazing in concern. "What is wrong?"

"This body is poison!" It was Hermione's mouth moving, but the voice was not her own. "Something burns me. She is not human! She is hok'tar! Kill her! Kill them all before they destroy us!"

Hermione fought for control of her mouth, but the Gao'uld was not ready to stop. "The boy, my beloved! Kill the boy before he wakes! He will be the death of all Goa'uld!"

Torn by momentary indecision, Apophis stood between the slabs that contained the hosts of his mate and their son. Finally, won over by his mate's pleas, Apophis turned toward Harry and raised his palm with the ribbon weapon that snaked around his wrist.

At that exact moment, as if roused by God himself, Harry opened his eyes.

Despite the terrible battle happening within her own body, Hermione could not help but feel the sudden surge of power that slammed into the Goa'uld. Somehow his personal shield kept him intact, but it could not negate the sheer kinetic energy of the blow. Apophis flew backwards, clipping his feet against the table to send him into an uncontrolled somersault in mid-air.

Hermione managed to gain enough control to turn her head and saw the alien land in a pile of armored Jaffa. That little control was all she had, though. With her mouth, the monster within her cried out again. "Flee, my beloved, and destroy this place from the heavens! Flee! I am lost. I am lost!"

"Bra'tac," Apophis shouted to one of the Jaffa, "stay and destroy them all! Kill all the other prisoners as well!"

With that, the great and mighty god Apophis ran from the room, accompanied by the screams of his precious Amaunet dissolving under the onslaught of an elixir made to sustain and heal life.

Hermione could feel the very instant Amaunet lost control and died; instantly she swung her legs up and over the edge of the stone table away from the Jaffa, ready for the shots. But the shots never came.

She turned to watch as Harry crawled to her side, as naked as she. His arms trembled from the effort of moving. "Oh Merlin, if we weren't about to die I'd shag you until you couldn't stand," she whispered.

"I _can't_ stand," he said. His voice sounded hoarse. "What the hell happened? Where are we?"

"We're on an alien world. We came through the Stargate. What do you remember?"

He stared at her a moment uncomprehendingly, before shaking his head. "There's a hole in my mind. I can't… I'll have to figure it out later. Why am I so weak?"

"You've been in a coma for two weeks."

"Right. That'll do it. And people are trying to kill us, I take it?"

"Yes. I don't have my wand, and I have no idea where our lightsabers are. Harry, they…I don't know if Luna's still alive."

He bowed his head. "Can you feel her?"

Hermione was so consumed by her recent possession and the pain and horror that accompanied it, she had not even thought to reach for her sister spouse in the Force. She did so now and fought back a strained smile. "She's alive!"

With visibly trembling arms, Harry lifted himself over Hermione's table. He frowned. "They're not speaking English, but I can understand what they're saying," he said. With a glance at Hermione, he said, "Why?"

"They put a Goa'uld in you, Harry," Hermione said. "Do you remember reading the reports about Goa'uld?"

Harry shook his head and grimaced. "Something's there, but I can't…" He slumped back to the floor. "I haven't felt this bad since I came back from the Veil. My whole brain is numb, and my body feels weak."

Hermione could not help but stare at him. In all their years together, she could never imagined her husband defeated. And yet, despite obviously destroying the parasite with his own power, he looked tired and defeated to her. "Harry, do you at least still have the Force?"

He blinked at her a moment without seeing her, before his eyes narrowed. She could feel him gathering the Force within him. "Yes. Wait, why aren't they firing at us?"

Hermione risked a peek over the edge of the table where she'd been held and saw five Jaffa arguing amongst themselves. The leader of the Jaffa appeared to be an older man judging from his gray beard, while the others were all tall, young, muscular brutes in heavy armor. Two of the taller men flanked the older, while the other two shorter, younger ones had stepped back and were shouting angrily in Goa'uld.

"The smaller two are accusing the elder of being a _shol'va_. I've not heard that term before," Hermione said.

"It means a heretic. A betrayer of the gods." Harry shook his head again. "Though I'll be damned if I know how I know that. Help me up?"

Unheeding of her own nudity, she positioned herself up under Harry's arm and helped him stand. The moment he did so, he reached out his hand and twisted his wrist.

The first of the two smaller Goa'ulds' neck snapped with an audible _pop_. The second turned, saw Harry and Hermione and began to lift his weapon before his neck, too, snapped and he fell dead. The remaining Jaffa backed away from the fallen with their staff weapons held ready.

Harry, though, lowered his hand and stared intently at the older man, then at the bloodied, still form of Luna on the table next to Hermione. Seeming to dismiss the Jaffa, Harry staggered toward Luna, forcing Hermione to follow as she still had his arm around her shoulder.

They reached Luna's table and saw the horrid knife puncture in her upper abdomen. For the first time, Luna showed signs of life by squeezing her eyes shut. "You wouldn't happen to have your wand, would you?" she whispered. "The stone is repairing my spine, so the rest of the cut is not healing quite yet. It rather stings."

Hermione wiped back a tear. "I don't know where our wands are, Luna," she admitted.

Harry, though, looked at the old man. "Are you my enemy?" he asked in flawless Goa'uld, as if born to it.

"I do not yet know," the old Jaffa said. "I would see what types of creatures would cause the great Lord Apophis to flee and abandon his mate and child. I cannot say I am impressed. You do not look so fearsome, yet I cannot deny your power."

"I'm naked," Harry noted dryly. "Strip your armor, and then we will compare how fearsome we are."

Instead of a staff blast, Harry's quip was met by a sharp bark of laughter. "True enough, stranger. But now we have a problem, you and I. Soon Apophis will destroy this fortress from his ha'tak in orbit, and we will all be lost. But if I kill you, we can return to Apophis with honor."

Harry looked at Hermione. "Apophis?"

"A Goa'uld," she said. "You really don't remember, do you? They're parasites—they invade a host body and have bred an army of Jaffa, like these, to fight as their soldiers. All the gods of the ancient earth mythologies are founded on the Goa'uld who collected slaves from our ancestors."

Harry looked back to the expectant Jaffa. "So you worship false gods?"

"I have often wondered," the old Jaffa said. The old Jaffa nodded sharply, and then pulled up his weapon beside him and used it as a walking staff as he stepped around Luna's table. "I am Bra'tak, First Prime of Apophis. I would know your name."

"I am Harry Potter. This is my wife, Hermione, and on that table is my second wife, Luna."

Bra'tac blanched and slid away from Luna's table with obvious dismay. "And I have killed her. Is my life too, forfeit, Hok'tar Potter?"

"Let those who were harmed pass judgment. Luna, is Bra'tac's life forfeit?"

The still, bloodied and naked form of Luna made no move at first, but after a moment she issued a loud, pained moan. "I'm not talking to you, Harry," she finally said weakly. "If you had come back to life sooner, we wouldn't have been in this mess. That knife really hurt!"

All three of the Jaffa jumped as if shot. "How can this be?" Bra'tac demanded.

Looking down at the woman who had become a sister in all but name, Hermione said, "I would gladly have taken the knife over what they did to me."

Luna blinked back her tears and stared at Hermione a moment before she nodded. "I know." She looked at Harry again and said, "I missed you so much."

"I'm sorry," he answered. "It was a blink of an eye for me. Can you walk?"

"My spine is still healing," Luna said. "I don't have feeling in my legs yet."

Bra'tac moved closer. "I did this to you, child."

"And it really hurt," Luna said, still fighting back the pain. "But I understand why you did. It was a blessing compared to the alternative."

"Master Bra'tac, we have little time," one of the younger Jaffa said.

Bra'tac nodded and looked sternly at Harry. "Today, I have seen a thing I never thought to see. Two hosts overcame their symbiotes. Always we were taught nothing of the host remains."

"A lie," Hermione said, growling angrily. "I remained even before my blood began to burn that monster."

"How is this done?" Bra'tac asked. "I must know."

"For me, I carry within my blood an elixir," Hermione said. "It brings healing, and to the Gao'uld it brought death."

"I still have no idea what the hell happened," Harry admitted. "But if they put something in me, I have no doubt I would destroy it or die trying."

Bra'tac looked back to the other Jaffa before turning his attention to Harry and Hermione. "Then I shall help you!"

"You may start by helping us find our weapons," Harry said. "I don't care about my clothes, but I'll be damned if I have to rebuild our lightsabers."

"Speak for yourself, I want my clothes!" Hermione said.

"We must be quick, then!" Bra'tac said. "I shall carry the little one. Come!"

Luna made no protest when Bra'tac swept her up in his arms. Hermione and Harry stumbled after, followed by the two other Jaffa.

They had not even left the chamber when an alarm went off. Bra'tac did not break stride as he led the three magicals from the imprinting room into a larger lounge lined with golden wall tiles and draperies. The chandelier glistened as if it were made with real diamonds, and Hermione thought it just might be.

"Bra'tac, Apophis said there were other prisoners?" Hermione asked.

The old Jaffa nodded. "His mate Amaunet goes through hosts quickly because she is a spawning queen. Every few years he gathers potential hosts for her and any spawn who have matured enough to take a host."

"Get them too," Harry said. "They come with us."

Bra'tac looked back at Harry a second before nodding. "Teal'c, go."

The young, strong Jaffa Bra'tac pointed to accepted his orders with a nod and ran, while the rest continued to a salon. It was in this luxuriously appointed room that they found their old clothes and lightsabers. Hermione pulled on the Byrsa home-spun clothing quickly, and helped Harry dress as well. For Luna, Hermione grabbed a shawl and wrapped her up while still in Bra'tac's arms. In doing so, she found their wands as the wood fell from the shawl—in pieces.

"Oh no!" she gasped, paling.

Harry stood beside her, looking down at the floor grimly where Luna's and Hermione's wands lay in shattered pieces across the ground.

* * *

AN

AN

First, to those questioning certain characters and timing: after 1,000,000+ words of fiction, try to have a little faith that I may actually know what I'm doing. You will too in time, if you don't figure it out on your own first.

Second: The Goa'uld. Stargate had a certain HUMANITY, FUCK YEAH! element to it. Actually, it's condensed and distilled into every minute of the show. It had 10-year-old projectile weapons easily beating energy weapons with 20,000 years of technology behind them, and had genetically engineered walking tanks easily taken down on a weakly basis by Captain Samantha Carter. Which is okay, Sam was hot and I was all about watching her kick ass.

I think if something like that were to happen in relief life, Earth would die. It would die badly. So, I've taken the liberty for the sake of parity of actually writing the Goa'uld as ancient, hyper-intelligent beings born with the ancestral memories of their entire race who control an army of genetically engineered super soldiers with technology built on eons of advancement. Just be aware of this slight difference to cannon as the story progresses.


	7. Sanctuary

A/N: Chap 6 review responses are in my forums like normal. Read at your own risk.

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Sanctuary**

"Harry?" Hermione said in a lost tone of voice.

"I can't repair wands," Harry said in a dull voice, as if he too were shocked.

"The sticks have purpose?" Bra'tac asked, still holding Luna cradled half-naked in his arms.

"Not anymore," Hermione said bitterly. She glanced around and saw her saber. With a motion of her hand, the blade flew into her grip and ignited. "At least we have these."

Harry took his and then stood on his own, although unsteadily. "I'm getting stronger," he assured Hermione when she looked at him in worry. "We've got to go."

Dressed and armed again, Bra'tac continued to lead them through what was looking more and more like a castle, albeit one with a minimum of decoration. Before they could reach the main entrance, they found their way barred by five more Jaffa, each with staffs ready. "Bra'tac! _Shol'va!"_

Bra'tac answered with a perfectly aimed blast of his staff weapon that hit the speaker in the abdomen. The other four fired their weapons, but Hermione and Harry lit their lightsabers and deflected the blasts back faster than even Bra'tac could fire again. The four remaining Jaffa fell dead to the floor.

Teal'c arrived a moment later just as they all came within sight of a massive, closed portcullis. Behind the young Jaffa came a group of mostly young, attractive but terrified women and children, and a handful of young men with the glaring exception of one gaunt figure who stood a head taller than even Teal'c.

They followed Teal'c clinging to each other and gasping in fear. Hermione found herself studying them with interest because of the wide variety of clothes they wore. Some wore simple home-spun cottons like the Byrsa, while others wore clearly synthetic clothes of a more sophisticated manufacture.

Harry, meanwhile, was studying the portcullis. "Any other time, I'd just rip it out of its tracks," he muttered.

"Well, if I had a wand I could use _alahomora_ ," Hermione said with a stressed grin.

"Right." Harry cast the charm himself. The door started to open only to come screeching to a halt. "Plan B, then." He grunted and lifted both hands in an abrupt, muscular gesture. The portcullis responded with a metal-rending shriek before shooting up into its recess between the walls. The effort sent Harry to his knees, and that sent Hermione to his side.

"How can you do this?" Bra'tac asked, astonished.

"You should see me when I haven't been dead for two weeks," Harry muttered.

"Or just had an alien parasite shoved down my throat," Hermione said.

"Or my spine cut," Luna added with a weak smile from Bra'tac's strong arms.

"How far to the…Chappa'ai?" Harry asked.

"Three miles," Bra'tac said. He pointed to a high point in the distance, where they could just see the ring.

Hermione could see in Harry's blank expression how tired he was. He looked around the room until he saw a section of rope that controlled the now destroyed portcullis. With a grunt of effort, he lifted himself back to his feet and cut a long portion of the rope with his saber and pulled it out. "Have everyone grab a hold of it," he said.

Hermione, sensing his intent, grabbed one end and carried it to the crowd of terrified civilians. The Goa'uld she spoke came clearly and fluently—a parting gift from her violation. "Everyone, grab a hold of this rope. Make sure everyone is touching it, or you will be left behind!"

"What is this for?" Bra'tac asked, even as he carried Luna into the ever-increasing circle.

"A means of escape," Harry said. When everyone was within the circle of the rope, holding on, Harry joined them and gripped the rope. He frowned. "My brain feels like mush," he muttered.

" _Portus_ ," Hermione reminded him.

"Right." Of the three of them, he was the only one who didn't use a wand for his magic, simply because he blew any wand he tried out. He gripped the rope, poured magic into it, and said, " _Portus_."

They appeared a second later in front of the gate, and a second after that Apophis struck from orbit. The massive streak of orange light looked like it was the thickness of a semi-truck and slammed into the distant black citadel. The shockwave of the explosion spread as a visible distortion that bent the trees between them down. It struck Hermione like a wall and tossed her from her feet.

The civilians screamed as they too were knocked down. "Teal'c," Bra'tac shouted over the roar of the shockwave, "Dial Sanctuary!"

The Jaffa somehow kept their feet, as if they had experienced such blasts before. Teal'c ran to the DHD and dialed with a quick sure hand. In seconds the wormhole formed and civilians ran in terror through it.

Still holding Luna, Bra'tac shouted, "We must be quick, he will fire again!"

And indeed, Hermione caught one last glimpse of another terrible blast coming down almost on top of them just as she and Harry followed the old Jaffa and Luna through the gate.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The world they arrived at looked desolate and empty. The only immediate features were ancient-looking ruins in the form of two rows of crumbling columns that ran in a straight line away from the gate, with a discolored line of sand that may have once been a road running between them. To one side Hermione saw a raised foundation of stone with a few more crumbling columns on top of it. Otherwise, all she could see around her was blinding white desert as flat as a lake bed.

Despite the aridness, it was not hot. In fact, it felt bitterly cold.

The other refugees were already gathered around one of the columns, shivering against the biting wind. "Come," Bra'tac said, still holding Luna like a baby in his arms. "There is a shelter nearby."

"Where are we?" Harry asked. Hermione hovered nearby, watching his every move and expression for signs of collapse

"An abandoned mining world," Bra'tac explained. "It once belonged to Ra, but they exhausted the naquedah supply and left it. My father showed it to me when I was Teal'c's age as a place of safety since no Goa'uld would bother to come here. There is nothing left for them to take."

With that, he carried Luna, unheeding of the cold, past the refugees toward the raised stone foundation. Harry, Hermione and then the rest followed the Jaffa to the far side of the structure. There, they discovered a door leading down into the earth under the foundation itself. Bra'tac was already heading down.

By the time they reached him, Bra'tac already had chemical lanterns illuminating the large, low-ceilinged space. Hermione noted the racks of staff weapons and smaller, Z-shaped weapons against the far wall. On the opposite wall were what looked like large, metal kegs. Other racks contained supplies like blankets and armor.

He took Luna to the corner opposite the weapons and gently laid her down on a blanket. "Thank you," she said simply.

"It is the least I could do." Bra'tac turned to face the others. "My father and I have been stocking this place for many years. There are enough blankets for everyone. Those kegs contain _heqet_ and bread in stasis. We have food enough to last many months."

"Thank you, Bra'tac," Harry said. He and Hermione both slid down the walls next to Luna, each exhausted by their recent travails.

The Jaffa stood nearby, staring intently at him. "I have many questions, Har'ri Potter. I have so many questions, I do not even know where to begin."

"I wish I had answers," Harry said. "Perhaps, over food, we can find answers together."

"Wiser words have not been spoken," the old Jaffa agreed.

There was no fire pit in the space because there was no chimney to remove the smoke and nothing besides to burn. Instead, the third Jaffa, whose name was An'hur, dug a device from the supplies the size of a human leg which he placed in the middle of the floor. He activated it, and soon it began to glow red and radiate a comforting heat.

The tired, frightened refugees gathered around on the side opposite Harry, Hermione, Luna and the Jaffa after receiving tin mugs of _heqet_ and bread.

"Are you okay to eat?" Hermione asked as she handed food to Luna.

Luna moved aside the blanket that served as her only covering just enough to look at the now mostly healed scar. "Yes, I think so. Perhaps just the drink, though."

The _heqet_ proved to be a thick, sickly sweet, almost gruel-like beer. The Jaffa, and Hermione noted, several of the more primitively dressed peoples drank it with relish. Those wearing synthetic, manufactured clothing appeared less enamored of it.

"It tastes like swill," Luna said, though the taste did not stop her from drinking it. They were all very hungry. "Just like what the Byrsa gave us, without all the hallucinogenic additives."

"That sounds like fun," Harry said. Hermione could hear exhaustion in Harry's voice. He'd managed to drown his cup and even ate a roll of the flat bread that was just like the Byrsa bread. "You'll have to tell me about it."

"I faked being drunk to get us out of an interrogation," Luna said.

"Just like you and your father faked being insane back at Hogwarts so you could live with us?" Hermione asked.

Luna beamed. "Exactly."

Harry dipped the unleavened bread in his beer and ate in silence while studying the refugees in the dull red light of the heater. Hermione watched him as he studied the faces around him with an intensity she hadn't seen since he took on OPEC. But unlike most times, she could glean nothing from his thoughts, as if he were blocking her.

Gently, she took his hand and said, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm wondering what happened." He spoke in a dull voice. "I remember Colson. I remember him telling us about the Stargate program. And that's it—that's the last thing I remember."

Beside him, Luna stirred, and with effort sat up on her own. Slowly, she lifted a hand to his forehead and closed her eyes. "I sense a shroud," she said softly. "Something has blocked your memories."

"Remove it," Harry said flatly.

Luna, though, shook her head and lay black in her bed of coarse blankets. "I can't, Harry. Even if I had my wand, I couldn't. Whoever, or whatever, put that block on your mind was powerful. More powerful than I am, for certain. Perhaps even more powerful than you are. I'm sorry."

Harry stared down at her incredulously for a moment before turning to Hermione. "How did we get here?"

"The ICW turned against us," Hermione explained. "It was Ramirez, and…Arthur and Bill Weasley helped them. They trapped you in the Bane of Ra—the same ward we used to kill Voldemort."

Without realizing it, the two of them were speaking Goa'uld. The legacy of their dissolved symbiotes left the language implanted in their minds in such a subtle fashion neither realized Goa'uld had become their primary language.

At the name of Ra, the three Jaffa and almost all the civilians sat up alertly. "What is this Bane of Ra?" Bra'tac asked sharply.

Hermione pulled a strand of hair in a sign of nervousness the others had not seen in her since Hogwarts. "I…I don't know everything, but I know this much. You—all of you—originated on the planet Earth. Our world. The legend is that Ra was looking for new hosts and materials, and discovered Earth, and on it, humanity. He and his children took humans from all over the planet and seeded you throughout the stars and enslaved those of us left on Earth. But there were wizards on earth capable of performing powerful magics. The wizards cast Ra off the planet and created a magical ward—a barrier they called the Bane of Ra—that would keep Ra from ever coming again."

"Tau'ri," the younger Jaffa, Teal'c, whispered. Louder, he said, "You are Tau'ri?"

"The Tau'ri home world is the stuff of legend and myth," Bra'tac said dismissively. "You are more likely to walk on Keb than the Tau'ri world."

Harry, though, shook his head. "I have no memory of any of that," he said softly.

"Harry, the Bane killed you," Luna said softly. "It stopped your heart. If not for our…we revived your body, but until you were implanted with that Goa'uld, you were brain dead."

Harry shook his head and stared down at his half-consumed food. His body craved the nutrients, but his stomach roiled at the idea of any more food. He placed the cup down, and with a disturbing amount of effort, pushed himself back to his feet with none of the grace he was accustomed to.

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I have to go clear my head," he said, before stumbling out of the shelter and into the bitingly cold air. In the distance, the sun was just beginning to set, and in the process threw the horizon into a scintillating rainbow of reds, blues and purples.

There was no conscious decision to use Voldemort's flying spell. He could have used a combination of featherweight charms and Force levitation for much the same effect, but Voldemort's spell was simply better. Casting it on himself, he rose into the air like a missile, glorying in the feeling of his stomach dropping and the blood pulling momentarily from his brain as he shattered the bonds of gravity.

He never bothered to look behind him, where he would have seen Bra'tac stagger as if shot at his sudden levitation. Instead, he created a banishing charm matrix that banished the air in front of him to the space behind him in a constant stream that would work as long as he had magic to power it. Voldemort's spell was capable of propelling Harry fast, but with the addition of air manipulation, he suddenly shot forward faster than sound toward the horizon. There was no sonic boom, however, because of the constant, magical displacement of air. In a very real sense, he created a magical vacuum tube around himself.

It was a scientific application of magic, and it allowed him to burn through the atmosphere of the dead world without even having wind in his face. After a time he did have to summon a bubblehead charm since he did not have much air to breathe either, but once that was done he allowed himself to simply stare down at the world below.

He saw mountains and plains and empty riverbeds. He saw many ruins much like what he left behind, but all were ancient. After half an hour he came to a long, burning plain dotted by volcanic cones, and beyond that, ocean as far as he could see. And throughout his flight, he could not see a single trace of life on that land.

Cancelling most of the magic, Harry slowed rapidly and landed with a slight flexing of his knees at the edge of the ocean. Normally oceans had the smell of sea life—faintly rotting fish and organic things.

What he smelled from this ocean was salt, a touch of sulfur, and little else. The ocean _smelled_ dead, such was the effectiveness of the Goa'uld. They had destroyed this world as thoroughly as if they used a Death Star.

Looking down at his feet, he realized with a start that he was barefoot. He'd never even really noticed before. With those bare feet, he stepped into the bitterly cold water.

He then immediately stepped out when the cold became a hot sting. He stared, incredulous, at the angry red swelling in his feet from what could only be an astonishing acidic content within the water. Within seconds, the magic that he purchased with the blood of a hundred convicts and the worst physical pain he'd ever endured soothed the burning and quickly eliminated the swelling.

He realized then what the Goa'uld had done—they poisoned the oceans so thoroughly the rest of the world simply died as a result. It was insidious and utterly without morality. It was something the Sith would do.

It was something he would have done to his enemies, if not for Hermione and Luna.

 _His enemies_.

Sith rage began to burn in his chest. Since he had no direct memory of what happened, it was Hermione's description which made him so angry. Bill and Arthur Weasley betrayed him? Men whose lives and family Harry saved were involved in his banishment and near death? And Ramirez—he had always acted the part of Harry's ally. For these men to turn against him infuriated Harry beyond anything he could remember feeling. The Goa'uld were what they were—his anger was not for them.

But there was a special place in hell for betrayers and oath-breakers.

Bane of Ra be damned! Harry was going to go back, and he was going to show them what it meant to fuck with Harry Potter! He didn't bother flying—he spun on his heel and disapparated with a loud pop. Seconds later he reappeared in front of the Stargate.

"Harry!"

Hermione was already running toward him, her face caught in an expression of worry. She slammed into him and hugged him tight. "Please, don't just run off like that!" she said.

A moment later, though, her hands still on his arms, she backed away and studied him. He knew she could feel his anger just as he could feel her own strong emotions. "Harry, what…?"

"I'm going back," Harry said. "I'm going to show them what it means to betray me."

"Harry, the Bane…"

"It only affected me, correct? Then you go through first, with your lightsaber, and score the ward matrix."

"Harry, there's no guarantee I would make it at all," Hermione said urgently. "They had some type of iris built so close to the gate that they could keep objects from rematerializing. I would die before I even emerged from the gate. There's no way…"

"A patronus, then," Harry said.

Just then, Luna emerged from the shelter, her way lit by a Goa'uld torch lamp. She clutched a blanket around her shoulders as her only clothing, since without a wand she could not transfigure anything. She moved gingerly, obviously still recovering from her wound.

"Where did you go?" Luna asked.

"I had to clear my mind," Harry said.

"You need to keep working, then," she said simply, without smiling. "It's clouded with rage."

"I'm going back," Harry said.

"You'll die," Luna said.

"Is that your vision speaking?"

Luna opened her mouth to respond, but thought better and instead closed her eyes and sank into the Force with an ease Harry sometimes admired. "The Force feels strange here, muted," she said. "I can hear the echoes of those who once lived here, and little else. But…I don't sense danger."

Hermione turned and stared at the shorter girl as if in betrayal. "Luna!"

"I don't know why, but I don't sense danger," Luna affirmed.

Bra'tac had emerged behind them, followed by the two Jaffa. "And what about all those people, Harry?" Hermione pointed back toward the Jaffa and the foundation sanctuary. "We saved their lives! We can't just abandon them now! What about Bra'tac, and Teal'c and An'hur? They risked their lives to save us. Are we just going to abandon them?"

Harry looked from one face to another of the two women that kept him sane and successful for so long. He tried to imagine what it must have been like for them, with him in a coma for two weeks. He opened his mouth to ask how and where they survived, but it wasn't the time. "Ten days," he said then. "We go back for ten days. I make sure our enemies pay for what they've done, and that the company is settled properly. At the end of it, if we decide to stay we bring Bra'tac and the rest home with us and give them a place in the company where they'll be safe."

"I hear my name, but I do not understand," Bra'tac said as he walked toward them. "You are leaving us?"

"For ten days," Harry said. "On our world, we are powerful and wealthy. It will take only ten days to destroy our enemies, now that they've shown their hand. And after that time, we will come back for you so that you and those who wish it will be safe and secure."

Bra'tac did not bother to hide his frown. "So the hok'tar my old master feared is instead a coward? To think I threw my honor away for you! It is too much!" He spat into the dirt.

Harry, already hovering on the edge of Sith rage, surged forward until Luna stepped calmly in front of him. "Bra'tac is not your enemy, Harry," she said softly. "He did not betray you, or harm you."

"He harmed you!"

"He was the hand of a mad god, but not the god himself," she answered.

Slowly, staying between Harry and the old Jaffa, Luna turned to face Bra'tac. "Please give us ten days," she said. "I sense something is important beyond the gate. It is something we must see. Wait for us, and we _will_ return."

Bra'tac jutted his bearded chin at Harry. "To this one, I owe nothing. But you…you I have done harm to, and so for you I will wait. Flee if you must, and in ten days I and those within will find our own fates if you do not return!"

Angrily, he spun on his heel and stomped back to the shelter, his cape thrown over one arm, and his staff weapon in in his other hand like a walking stick.

Luna turned back to Harry and studied him before looking to Hermione. "Harry needs to go, Hermione. We all do. What happened will continue to hang over us until we have resolution. We go. I know Earth's address—we didn't dare dial it before because of the Bane. Did you see what Teal'c dialed to get us here?"

Hermione nodded. "This is a bad idea," she said softly.

"But a necessary one," Luna assured her. "For all of us. After all, perhaps we can get new wands."

"Then let's go," Harry snarled.

* * *

AN:

Admittedly short chapter, but this wraps up Part 1. Next week starts the real fun.


	8. You Can't Go home Again

A/N: Chap 7 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Part II: Through A Quantum Mirror Darkly**

 **Chapter Eight: You Can't Go Home Again**

"What the hell is that?" McIntosh muttered.

Beside him, his fellow Airman Clinton Haversham put a hand to his Smith and Wesson Model 15 revolver as they walked toward the warehouse where the unearthly blue light shone from the windows.

McIntosh pulled the jeep radio receiver and called the odd occurrence in, while Haversham walked toward the warehouse. After getting confirmation that more units were en route, McIntosh joined his partner. "What do you think?"

Haversham shrugged. "Dunno. That's where they keep the Big Box, right?"

The Big Box was a topic of some discussion among the Air Force Security Police that guarded Bolling Air Force Base. The object in the sixteen foot tall, three foot-wide box weighed almost 30 metric tonnes. It took a tank trailer to move it. And for all that, nobody at Bolling had any idea what it was.

The two airmen unlocked the door of the warehouse, pulled their sidearms, and stepped inside.

The ethereal, flickering blue light shone through the warehouse from a source at its center. The two airmen stepped around a pallet of air-to-air missiles awaiting shipment overseas and saw that their speculation was spot-on—the light was indeed coming from the Big Box.

The center of the box was gone, burned away in a perfect circle that exposed a horizontal, water-like surface that flickered and shone in the darkness. But what really caught the men's attention was the silvery object that seemed to be pacing in front of the box.

"What is it?" Haversham whispered.

"Looks like a deer," McIntosh whispered back.

Suddenly the silvery, translucent creature reared up on its hind legs before bounding into the water-like surface within the box. The two men started forward when three more patrol units arrived. One was the base SP commander, Lieutenant Hollings. "What do we have, gentlemen?"

The LT was a senator's son, and everyone on the base knew it, which is why he was a lieutenant guarding a small, mostly inactive training and refueling base in Washington rather than a base overseas. He projected confidence and command up until he saw the glowing ring in the center of his warehouse and came to a halt.

"Sir, McIntosh and I spotted an animal-like object just before you got here. It went through that…whatever the hell it is."

Hollings stammered a moment before gaining a semblance of control. "Pirelli, go call command. Tell them the Langford Artifact has activated. Go, hurry! The rest of you, form a perimeter. Nothing gets through."

"Like what, Ell-Tee?" another of the SPs asked, even as Pirelli ran to the nearest jeep to radio in the message.

As if in answer to the question, a figure suddenly stepped through the gate, only to fall the three feet from the mount of the ring to the floor with a startled, rather high-pitched squeal. The figure stood to reveal pale skin—a lot of pale skin.

"Somebody cover Johnson's eyes, he's too young for that!" another of the men called.

Because they found themselves staring at a completely nude girl in her late teens. She was no Marilyn Monroe by any measure, but she was obviously female, and naked.

She reached down and grabbed a dull, coarse blanket that she had arrived in, and wrapped it back around herself like a towel. Only then did she look at the line of soldiers in front of her. "Oh, hello there," she said brightly in an obviously English accent. "This does not appear to be SG Command. Could you tell me where I am?"

"You're in Bollings Air Force Base, District of Columbia, United States of America," Hollings belted out.

"How odd," she said. She took a few barefoot steps forward and looked around the warehouse.

The odd tableau was broken when another person stepped through the gate with very similar results—a short squeal as she fell. "Where's the ramp?" the new arrival said in an equally British accent. This girl was, to the disappointment of some, fully clothed. Her outfit was odd, though, like something out of an old Errol Flynn movie with the beautiful peasant women in home-spun clothing.

She came up short, though, when she saw the line of Security Police. "Hello, then," she said. "Luna, who are these people?"

"We are evidently in Bollocks Air Force Base in Washington," Luna said.

The newcomer blinked and looked right at Hollings. "Why did you move the gate?"

The lieutenant finally overcame his shock and raised his weapon. "Freeze, both of you! You are under arrest for trespassing on United States Air Force property."

"Oh no," the taller one with the odd name said, though not to the SPs, but to the blonde. "If Harry sees them pointing guns at us, he's going to fight first. He'll be coming in just a minute—he wanted to wait long enough for us to break the Bane."

"I said freeze!" Hollings shouted.

"We could disarm them ourselves," Luna pointed out, utterly dismissing the lieutenant as not worth her attention.

McIntosh fought an urge to chuckle. Hollings was very sensitive when it came to being ignored, especially by pretty girls.

"That would get us off on rather the wrong foot," Luna noted. "You know how much Bartleby hates getting involved in political disputes. We should be able to explain to President Hayes that the ICW play was an internal gambit, but if we..."

"I said freeze!" Hollings shouted again. "That means shut the hell up, get down on the ground and put your hands up!"

"That's an odd request," Luna said, finally looking at him. "If I lay down on the ground, what would be the point of raising my hands? And if I raise my hands before I lay down, I'm afraid my blanket may fall off, and I'd say I'd given you enough of a show as it is, thank you very much."

"Cuff them both," Hollings ordered.

McIntosh and Haversham shared a look before they holstered their weapons, removed their hand cuffs, and approached the odd pair. Naturally, that's when the final person stepped through the shimmering ring. He did not make any sound as he fell and landed with barely a flex of his knees. Unlike the two women, he wore black slacks and a chainmail shirt that left his arms and his feet bare. Black hair gleamed nearly blue under the strange light, which abruptly shut off right after he came through.

"This is not what I was expecting," he said dryly.

"We are in Bollocks Air Force Base in Washington," Hermione said.

"Er, ma'am, its Bollings Air Force Base," McIntosh said helpfully.

"That would certainly make more sense," Hermione said with a smile.

"McIntosh, don't talk to the prisoners!" Hollings shouted. "Just cuff them!"

The newcomer looked around at the uniformed men. "USAF, Security Police," he noted. "Lieutenant, my name is Harry Potter. I demand to speak to President Hayes in the White House. He knows who I am."

Hollings stammered at the direct address, but then shook his head. "I don't know what you're on, hippie, but there is only one president in the White House, and his name is Lyndon Baines Johnson!"

For perhaps the first time, McIntosh saw that all three of the strange newcomers looked genuinely startled, so much so that he and his partner were able to step forward and secure all three in handcuffs.

They stepped back from the cuffed individuals, none of whom seemed to care about the restraints. "Harry, you need to confirm what's happening," the brunette said. "Perhaps Hogwarts?"

"Are you sure?"

"We'll be okay," Luna said. She smiled directly at McIntosh. "I doubt these men truly want to hurt us."

Infuriated at being ignored, Hollings rushed forward with his .38 in hand. "I said get on the ground!"

"If the lieutenant does try to hurt you, I'll make sure to make his death last for days," Harry said grimly. "Be safe."

Suddenly, without warning, the man's cuffs fell off his hands and he simply popped away.

"What…what…what happened?" Hollings screamed. He rushed right up to the blonde girl, screaming spittle in her face while waiving his .38 next to her head. "Where is he?"

"Please, either stop screaming at me, or have a breath mint," she said with a wince. "The garlic on your breath is unbearable."

"You little bitch!" Hollings seemed completely out of control as he grabbed the girl's blanket from right between her breasts and yanked hard. Before any of his stunned men could react, however, the partially unclothed young woman kicked him hard between the legs, then spinning so fast none could stop her, elbowed the gun from the Lieutenant's hand while simultaneously kicking the man's knee so hard McIntosh saw it snap sideways in an unnatural angle that made him wince. She then followed up with a glorious wheel kick that not only put Hollings on the ground, but proved beyond doubt that she was a natural blonde.

"Oh boy," was all the SP could say.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The girls could not apparate without their wands. Harry could have taken them both, but in that split second decision, all three realized they could figure out more of what was going on by splitting apart. If they felt themselves threatened, they both had their sabers and the Force.

So, leaving them to discover what was happening in the Muggle world, Harry apparated across the planet itself, achieving a distance only he, and Voldemort before him, could have accomplished. He apparated to the edge of Hogwarts and felt his knees go weak.

The Castle of Hogwarts appeared to be a resort made of heavy timber and stone in a ranch style overlooking the lake, with at least three large decks filled with empty tables due to the cold, wet weather. He could not feel any trace of magic in the air.

With a blink and a spin, Harry apparated to central London. He found what should have been the entrance to Diagon Alley, but all he found within was a narrow car park. Again, he could feel no trace of magic.

Growing increasingly worried, Harry apparated to the last place he could think of that should have magic.

When he arrived, the first thing he noticed was the heat, which after the bitter cold of Scotland felt oppressive. Around him, harsh, lifeless sand blurred under the sunlight, but in the far distance on the wind he could hear the sound of traffic.

Dominating the view, though, were the ancient pyramids of Giza, which he now knew were built initially by Ra as a landing platform for his great mother ships. Even before Harry knew about the Stargate, though, Egypt was considered the birthplace of magic. The first organized magical system was created in Egypt before spreading out in a diaspora of wizardry that first followed the Hellenistic cosmopolitan world following Alexander's conquests, in the process being first Hellenized and then Romanized.

The spot he was looking for he knew only because Hermione had taken him there to show him where the Bane of Ra ward was first found during his OPEC adventures. Three hundred meters southwest of the Pyramids of Queens near the Menkaure pyramid, he found the original excavation of the Bane, which they only found out later was the site where the stargate was also unearthed. The Bane of Ra was the most powerful ward ever made, powered by the blood of thousands of wizards who, according to myth, literally gave their lives to ensure their people's freedom from Ra.

There was magic there, still. He sighed in relief as he hopped down into the excavated ruins. The magic felt ancient, more ancient than anything he'd felt before, but also incredibly weak. If Ra ever returned, Harry somehow doubted the magic could still repel him.

But that didn't make sense. From what Hermione told him, when they used the ward to capture a ritual-empowered Voldemort, the ward would last forever, fed by the ambient magic of the world, and all the wizards and witches who lived and died on it. But this ward hadn't been fed by anything in eons.

It was if there were no wizards or witches left to power it.

Harry hopped out of the old excavation, which dated to the 1920s if he remembered correctly, and looked around the plateau. He sank himself into a light meditation while gathering his magic within him until he felt as if his skin would burn. With a scream, he released the magic in a sudden burst that shot away at the speed of light itself.

Sinking to his knees in exhaustion, Harry barely had time to raise his head when the wave came back, having traversed the whole planet in less than a second. The wave was virtually intact when it returned. His magic scoured the whole world, and in all of that space, did not encounter a single magical signature at all, save for two familiar signatures from the far West that he knew were his family.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Luna sat calmly at the featureless wooden table, now clad in a single-piece white jumpsuit. Her bound hands rested on the table in front of her. Nearby was a glass of water one of the more friendly soldiers got her. She was rather hungry as well, but decided not to bother mentioning it.

The door opened and a man in Air Force blues stepped in, replete with the cap. He had a broad face that held the potential both of good humor, and great cruelty. "Good morning, Luna," the man said politely.

"Good morning, Walter," Luna said with a beaming smile.

The officer stopped just inside the door. "How did you know my name?"

"Well, your name tag says W. O. West. So, I assumed it was either Walter or Willoughby. I was also toying with Waldhar, depending on how German you are. Waldobert was also a real possibility, but Walter seemed the more likely."

"Do you actually know anyone named Waldobert?"

"No, but my father is named Xenophilius."

"I see." Captain Walter O. West sat down in the wooden chair opposite her and placed a simple, thin manila folder on the surface of the table. "We called our allies oversees, and it seems there are some issues with your previous statements. For instance, there is no such place called Ottery St. Catchpole. There is an Ottery St. Mary, but no Catchpole."

"How unfortunate. I must not exist, then. Does that mean you'll let me go?"

"No."

Luna pouted. "A shame. I am rather hungry."

"Where did you really come from, Luna, if that's your real name?"

"Ottery St. Catchpole."

"How did you get to Bollings?"

"I don't know."

The man smirked. "Where were you yesterday?"

"That depends. What is the date?"

The man blinked. "April 25th."

"Well, that almost helped," Luna said with an absent smile. "What is the year?"

In a flat tone, Captain West said, "Nineteen sixty-eight."

"Thank you, that was much more helpful. To answer your question, yesterday, on April 24th, 1968, I was doing nothing, as I did not exist at that point."

"Do you think this is all a joke?" West snapped, growing impatient.

"If it is, it is on me," Luna said. She stared at West for a long moment, frowning. "I know I'm not supposed to be here, now, Captain West. But I just don't know what to do next."

"Then let me tell you," he said. "If you cooperate fully, there is a good chance we can avoid prison. But if you continue to treat this as a joke, then I will have no choice but to turn you over to the C.I.A."

"You're going to turn me over to the Chemical Industries Association?" Luna asked, tilting her head in seeming confusion.

"The Central Intelligence Agency!" West snapped.

"Oh. I might have also guessed the Cleveland Institute of Art, but I suppose Central Intelligence Agency makes more sense. Do you think they have tea?"

Without a word, West stood and left the room. He walked down the hall to the hastily constructed observation room and stepped in with a shake of his head. "Anything?"

"It's a weapon," the plain-clothed FBI agent said, holding up one of the cylinders they took from the captured intruders. With a flick of his thumb, a bright beam of energy seared out from the end, forming what looked like a sword.

"What the hell is that?" West asked, startled.

"Check this out," the agent said. He carefully touched the tip to the wall, and to West's astonishment the beam cut through the wall like it was water. He deactivated the cylinder and put it down. "I gotta tell ya, Captain, there is not a thing on this earth that can do that."

"Holy Mary Mother of Christ, you saying this girl is some type of alien?" West demanded.

"They came through the Langford Artifact," the agent said. "Who the hell knows? Gonna try the pretty one?"

West nodded. "Right."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Hermione sat wishing for the thousandth time that she had her wand. Even during the worst of her travails during Hogwarts, there was always the feeling that if she just tried hard enough, she'd be able to defend herself because she had her wand. But when she saw those broken pieces, it felt as if a part of her had died. She still had the Force; she was far from defenseless. But magic had been an integral part of her being since she was eleven years old, and being without it left her feeling naked and vulnerable.

Captain West stepped back into the room with a manila folder and without a word sat down opposite Hermione at the small wooden table that made up one of three pieces of furniture in the room—one table and two chairs. He still had not spoken; instead he simply studied her intently. So, she met his gaze squarely. She was never as good at Force influence as she was with _legillimancy,_ but she tried to suggest as strongly as she could that he let her go; that she was no threat.

The man's sense of duty and will was too strong, however, and he shrugged the suggestion off without even likely knowing it was there. "You don't look like an alien," he finally said. "I always thought aliens would be little green men from Mars or some nonsense like that."

Hermione smiled without humor. "Unless they reproduce asexually, there would have to be little green women from Mars as well, don't you think?"

"You tell me."

Hermione shrugged. "There is some microbial life under the polar caps on Mars, but nothing advanced enough to take note of."

He stiffened and paled. "And how would you know that?"

"I watched it on BBC," she said casually.

West shook his head. "You think this is all a joke, don't you? You and your little friend?"

Hermione sobered and returned the man's gaze. "No, Captain, I don't think it's a joke. I am frankly confused and frightened, because I agree with you that we do not belong on this base. We did not intend to come here, and at the moment I have no idea how to get us back where we need to be."

"And where is that?"

"I can't tell you."

"And why not?"

She considered the captain for a moment. "Say you're in a room like this, with a large red button in front of you. You're entire life, you've been told if you push the red button, the world will end. But someone you don't know insists you push it, and threatens punishment if you don't. Would you then push that button, Captain?"

"Are you saying you're going to end the world?"

"I'm saying that my presence here is a violation of every law of causality I've ever been taught, and if I say or do anything without a better understanding of what is happening, I am genuinely afraid of what will happen. I'm not trying to be difficult, Captain. I am trying to be responsible."

"And what about your friend? How did he disappear?"

Hermione shrugged. "I can't tell you. I truly can't. I'm sorry."

West leaned back in his seat. "Miss, you need to understand that as far as the people of the United States are concerned, you and your little friend do not exist. You are not citizens, and you are outside the law. So far we have been patient, but I assure you that if you don't start cooperating, things will begin to get much, much worse."

"I understand that, Captain. Perhaps, someday, you'll understand that when I refuse to cooperate, I am in fact doing so not just for you, but your children and their children after them."

The distant, muffled sound of gunfire brought West's attention around. He started to stand when more gunfire came, followed by abruptly cut-off screams.

"That would be my husband, come to fetch me," Hermione said calmly.

West turned and stared at her with wide eyes, and so his back was to the door when Harry Potter stepped in. He waived a hand, not even bothering with magic, and West collapsed. "Are you okay?" Harry asked shortly.

"I'm fine. How's…hello, Luna."

Luna walked in right after, clad in a plain jumpsuit. "Hello, Hermione. Would you mind robbing the captain of all his money? I doubt we will be able to access our accounts here."

"Oh, yes, of course."

Meanwhile, Harry apparated out of the room, and in the distance, Hermione could hear more screams and gunfire. She rolled the soundly sleeping West over and rifled through his wallet. He had an American Express card and twenty three dollars, all of which she took.

Harry walked back into the room with Hermione's and Luna's lightsabers in hand. He wore his own on his belt. "I've wiped their memories as best I can, but that was never my bailiwick," he said. "They also have cameras everywhere."

"Then they no doubt have more people coming," Luna said as she too walked in with a bundle of cash in hand. "We need to get out of here."

"What about the…what did he call it? Langford Artifact?" Hermione asked.

"We'll figure something out," Harry said. He grabbed first Luna, then Hermione. "But not here."

While a new wave of SPs and federal agents crashed into the base to find a hundred personnel on the ground, sound asleep, Harry and his family disappeared with a loud pop.

* * *

A/N:

Well, I wasn't being too subtle in telegraphing this, given Apophis was alive and Teal'c was not only still a Goa'uld Jaffa, but was actually serving under Bra'tac as First Prime. So, shouldn't be too huge of a surprise. But I will say that the 1969 episode in SG was one of my favorites.


	9. Out of Context

A/N: Chap 8 review responses are in my forums like normal. Common questions regarding the hows and whys of time and dimensional travel are actual plot points, and so will be addressed in the future.

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Out of Context**

Harry, Hermione and Luna sat in a diner in New York eating greasy hamburgers and chips while drinking sodas. Around them, people bustled about living their lives with no clue how truly out of place the three of them were.

It helped that all three wore period clothes, purchased in Chicago using Captain West's American Express Card. For Harry this consisted of navy slacks, a button up and a blue check and windowpane sport coat, no tie. He wore heavy work boots that would have clashed with the clothes on anyone else. Given his physique and the hard planes of his face, he pulled the look of surprisingly well.

Hermione wore a broadcloth shirt printed with crimson flowers with a light brown pair of culottes that allowed her a full range of motion, and sensible nursing shoes. She carried her lightsaber in a purse. Luna opted for a green flower print dropped waist dress and flats, with a matching purse for her own saber.

They also carried a total of $500, again thanks in large part to Captain West's credit. They had no doubt the poor captain would not be happy with them, but they were not willing to simply go hungry.

While $500 was a morning's pocket change for Harry as the president of Phoenix Industries in 2004, in 1968 it turned out $500 could take them quite a long ways. Twenty got them a small hotel room with an in-suite bathroom, two beds and an old black and white television, and the meal all three were enjoying was going to cost less than $5 with tip.

They ate in silence, Harry next to Luna, facing Hermione. Despite their long travels, in fact it was only an hour since they escaped Bollings Air Force Base, and none of them had really taken the time to say what was obviously on their minds. It wasn't until Luna finished her soda that she broached the topic on their minds.

"It really is 1968. This is not a glamour, hallucination or fraud. Agreed?"

"Agreed," the other two said.

"Magic, as far as I can tell, does not exist," Harry said next. "Hermione, I went to Giza. I found the original Bane of Ra warding. It hasn't had any ambient magic fed into it in eons, possibly since it was created. So I sent out a pulse to see if I had any hits."

"Was that pulse of magic you, then?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "You, Luna and I are the only magical beings on the planet."

"Sadly, that makes sense," Luna said. "Most magical flora and fauna originated from Wizards, with the exception of dragons and unicorns. And without wizards to protect them, I have no doubt they would have been hunted into extinction. No wizards mean no magic at all."

"Which means no wand cores," Hermione said softly. "How, though? We've obviously travelled in time, but how could a 30-year closed time loop result in the elimination of five thousand years of magic? What could have happened?"

It was Luna, eyes closed, who answered. "There is no magic. This isn't our world. Something changed it. Whether we are the cause or not, I can't tell."

"So what do we have? Hermione, could you make a wand from my hair?" Harry asked, thinking Fleur Delacour's wand.

Hermione, though, shook her head. "Wand crafting was an art, Harry. That's why you never saw a young wand crafter. The apprenticeship period for a wand crafter is 20 years, and they keep their secrets jealously. I wouldn't even know where to start."

Harry popped a chip in his mouth and looked out the window at the busy street. It felt as if he were on a movie set, looking at all the shiny, new cars made years before he was born. He didn't even know if they had computers in the sixties?

"We still have the Force, which makes us more powerful than any other individuals on this world, especially if there are no wizards," he said. "Apparation is possible without a wand, you'll just need to retrain yourselves. But most important, we still have knowledge. Even if the world is different, there are enough similarities for us to be guided in our actions. We have an incredible opportunity here. Think how my technology changed the world in the late 90s. Now imagine what we could do starting three decades earlier, when they use vacuum tubes in televisions! We could rule the world inside ten years!"

"But it's not our world," Luna said, and for the first time the others could hear a true sense of loss in her tone, bordering on despair. "Harry, we wanted to take over the world to unify the magical and mundane and lead humanity into the stars. Whatever other motivations we had, at the end of the day we were fighting for our people—for the magical world. This isn't it. This isn't our world, and I have no interest in trying to rule it."

"What the hell are we supposed to do, then?" Harry snapped, angry in spite of himself.

Hermione, though, reached across the table to take his hand. "We find a way to open the gate," she said. "And we go back. You want to fight, Harry? Then let's fight against those enemies we still have access to. That Goa'uld…" Hermione shuddered at the memory. "It _violated_ me, Harry. Do you understand? It entered me against my will, and raped my mind, and there was nothing I could…"

Hermione despised showing weakness, but it was impossible to stop the tear that ran down her cheek. Harry stared at her, both startled by and appalled by her obvious suffering. He squeezed her hand before looking down at the table.

"If we leave, then our enemies win," he growled.

"It was a pyrrhic victory, Harry," Luna said. "They all died to drive us off, just like the wizards who drove off Ra so long ago. And yet, we've learned that Ra not only still lives, but thrives. It was you, Harry, who always said our future was in the stars."

"But…" His arguments failed before the looks of the only two people in the universe that he cared for more than himself.

"Bra'tak is waiting for us," Hermione said softly. "Those people we saved are waiting for us. How many people, Harry, have a chance to go from a Sith monster to a true hero? A liberator? Let's go back and maybe make a real difference."

"Assuming, of course, that we can go back," Luna said. "In retrospect, I now understand why the mission files we were given were so heavily redacted. We know the general narrative of what happened, but have insufficient detail to know the hows or whys. For all we know, Teal'c or Bra'tac themselves could be the Jaffa that SG-1 eventually befriended. We just don't have all the answers."

"So where do we start?" Harry asked.

Hermione, though, suddenly smiled as she wiped away her lingering trace of weakness. "The library, of course. After all, even in 1968, the New York Public Library is one of the largest in the world."

"What are we looking for?"

Luna took Harry's hand. "My love, we are looking for an Egyptologist named Langford."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"How did the world function before computerized catalogues?" Harry grumbled as he slumped down at the reading table twenty minutes before the library was to close.

Hermione and Luna were both surrounded by stacks of books, and looking at the two of them, he couldn't help but be reminded of their days at Hogwarts, when they would each do the same. He never knew Luna before fifth year, but he had fond memories of Hermione as a young girl looking much as she did now. She was even chewing absently on a strand of her hair as she read.

"So, did you find Langford?" Harry finally asked.

Without looking away from the large, dusty tome, or even removing the tip of her chewed hair, Hermione nodded. Frowning, Harry said, "Really? Where?"

"Trinity Church Cemetery and Mausoleum," Luna said. "He died eight years ago."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"Talk to his daughter, Catherine," Hermione said absently. Again, she never looked up from the book.

"Then what are we doing here?"

"Reading," Hermione said.

"About what?"

With a sigh, Hermione put the book down and glared. "When did the Second World War end in Europe?"

Harry recalled his studies of the conflict. "June 3rd, 1945, three days after Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, and almost a month after Mussolini was executed in Italy. Without his wizard and his partner, and with the remnants of his army about to lose Berlin to the Soviets, Hitler shot himself on May 27th, and his successor Goering surrendered seven days later. Why?"

"According to what I've read, Hitler shot himself on April 30th, and named Grand Admiral Donitz his successor, not Goering."

"Donitz? He named his admiral?" Harry said, surprised. "The man who oversaw the sinking of almost their entire navy?"

Hermione shrugged. "Donitz formally surrendered on May 8, 1945. And Harry…America dropped a second nuclear bomb in Japan."

THAT startled Harry. In his world, the magical government of Japan was so traumatized by how the radioactive flash from Hiroshima caused magicals even outside of the blast radius to spontaneously combust that they forced the Emperor to surrender immediately.

But of course, there were no wizards in Japan, and no Grindelwald in Europe. "The changes are actually more pronounced if you go back before the Statues of Secrecy," Luna added. "Dates are wrong. Historical figures are missing, or vastly different than our counterparts. It's startling, really. Did you know that the Library of Alexandria was destroyed? Not just by the Christians in 391, but likely in fires dating back to Caesar. There were no wizards to protect the library, like in our time. And when the Great Destroyer, Theodosius, made his edicts against paganism in this world, much like he made against paganism and magic in ours, the last remnant of the library was destroyed."

Having visited the Great Library, even Harry felt a sting of regret at that news. "So much lost. But…I'm getting hungry, and it's getting late. What do we do next?"

From the stack, Hermione removed one book that looked much newer than the others. Harry stared at it: _Unraveling the Book of the Dead_ , by Catherine Langford, Ph.D, Barnard College, Columbia University. The book was published in 1967. _Last year._

"That's convenient," Harry said. "Columbia is here in New York, right?"

Hermione nodded, and with obvious willpower closed the book she'd been reading. "This really isn't our world. It's one thing to see it around us. It's another to see it chronicled throughout history."

"In other words, she didn't really believe it until she read it in a book," Luna said with a grin.

"Shush," Hermione said, though she did have the grace to blush a little. "So, tomorrow we go visit Professor Langford at Columbia?"

"Agreed," the other two said.

Harry stood and popped his back. "Now, food."

"Agreed," the other two said, quicker this time.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"So, did this happen the first time around?" Harry asked as he, Luna and Hermione stared at what, to their eyes, looked like the aftermath of a full-fledged battle the next morning.

The central Low Memorial Library Building in Columbia University was surrounded by a line of helmeted police officers. Detritus composed of shattered furniture, clothing, paper and other items was strewn over the iconic lawn of New York's premier university. And dotted throughout they saw the occasional, bloodied student walking around as if in a daze—mute evidence of the violence they had just missed.

"Believe it or not, Harry, I'm not intimately familiar with every nuance of American history," Hermione said peevishly.

"Which is her way of saying she has no idea," Luna translated.

"Luna, shush!" Hermione said, no longer smiling.

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. Even if he himself wasn't fully aware of how bad their situation was, the fact that the two women in his life were sniping at each other would have proven it beyond doubt. It was at times like this that he realized just how radically different the two were from each other.

The entire campus looked like a demilitarized zone, with trash and evidence of recent violence everywhere. Police stood glowering at everything, including Harry and the girls. "Of course, it couldn't be too easy," Harry said.

Hermione, though, was staring at a map of the University in confusion. "Wait. You mean… Barnard is a separate college? Why does it say Columbia on it?"

Luna sighed. "Because Columbia itself did not admit women originally, silly. So they created Barnard as a women's college."

Hermione's expression, if not so dire, would have been funny. "How could you possibly know that?" she said peevishly.

"I read about it last night at the library," Luna said with a happy shrug.

"Then why didn't you say so earlier?"

Luna shrugged. "I wanted to see what was happening here."

Harry sighed. "Come on, let's go." They walked down the College Walk, making sure to keep plenty of room between themselves and the police occupying the university, until they reached Broadway. Much like Columbia, from Broadway Barnard College was simply an unbroken line of seven and eight story buildings that hemmed in what he assumed would be a courtyard-like campus.

They stayed on the sidewalk since Luna's map directed them to a building on the edge of the smaller Barnard Campus. In the morning chill, the walking felt brisk, and because of the recent violence of riots Harry could only assume was connected to the Vietnam War somehow, the streets and campus were very nearly empty.

In a way, the campus seemed almost like an oasis of green once they left Broadway entirely and began making their way to the neoclassical, red brick façade of Milbank Hall. "It's a little spooky how quiet everything is," Hermione noted. "It's a Wednesday morning, where is everyone?"

"Recovering, I'd imagine," Luna said.

They stepped inside, and unlike the rest of the campus, saw several women moving about between their various classes. Hermione looked around for a directory but saw none. So, she did the next best thing and flagged down a student.

Harry and Luna watched nearby as the two women spoke briefly. Finally, Hermione returned and said, "Second floor, Office 227."

They skipped the elevator and walked up the wide, slightly uneven staircase. The whole building around them spoke of age and grandeur. Finally, though, they reached the office in question and all three were both pleased and surprised to see it was not only open, but occupied.

They were less pleased to see that it was occupied by more than just Professor Langford. Within the cramped office, whose walls were dominated utterly by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled to overflowing, and whose desk had not one but two type writers, Catherine Langford appeared to be a rather ordinary, thin woman in her forties with jet black hair and an angular face. She sat behind her desk cradling a steaming cup of coffee.

Facing her was an attractive younger couple with a baby boy on the woman's knee. Both of them wore glasses, and the man's hair was actually longer than the woman's, but the boy's hair was cut short. He was playing with what looked like an Egyptian queen obviously converted from a Barbie doll.

Langford spotted them immediately. "Just a moment, please," she said firmly but politely, speaking as a career instructor. "If you could close the door?"

Hermione, conditioned as she was through her education, gave a curtsey and said, "Of course, thank you."

"Wait!"

Hermione froze, her hand on the doorknob, as Professor Langford rose to her feet, revealing the floral print dress she wore. She stared from Hermione, to Luna, to Harry, and Harry saw in an instant that she recognized them. Captain West had been busy, it appeared.

"Inside," he said in a low tone.

Hermione and Luna had both recognized the situation the moment he spoke and stepped inside, followed by Harry himself. With a shaking hand, Langford went for the lime-green phone on her desk while the couple stood and backed away, the woman cradling her son and the man placing himself in front of her protectively.

Hermione Force-pulled the phone instinctively from Langford's hands, causing the woman to shriek in alarm. Hermione, though, stared at the large, clunky, rotary phone in bemusement. "I haven't seen one of these since before Hogwarts," she muttered.

Harry quickly closed the door behind them, and then cast a multitude of locking and privacy charms. "Help!" Langford screamed at the top of her lungs. "Somebody call the police!"

Luna looked to Hermione. "Did they have 999 in 1968?"

"I think it's 911 in the Colonies, and no, they didn't," Hermione said as she calmly walked to the desk and put the phone back down, albeit with a now unplugged cord. "Please, Professor, we're not going to hurt you."

"Prove it!" she snapped, flashing both fear and anger. "Let the Jacksons go!"

"Jacksons?" Hermione asked. She looked at the young family and the baby they cradled so protectively. She glanced back at Catherine, and then sighed. "I don't suppose the boy's name is Daniel, is it?"

"How did you know that?" the mother asked.

Harry, though, suddenly laughed. "Because she had a slight crush on him when she read some of his work."

"What?" the three academics asked.

Harry stepped further in. "Dr. Langford, I'm sorry for frightening you. My name is Harry Potter. This is my wife, Hermione, and my second wife, Luna. We will not harm you, or the Jacksons. And after we finish speaking, we will leave you all unharmed and in peace."

"I want to know why you said you knew our son!" the Jackson patriarch said.

"I want to know why you have two wives," the Jackson matriarch said.

"And I would love a cuppa," Luna finished.

"Captain West said that you assaulted over a hundred men!" Langford said.

"Did he say how they were doing?" Harry asked.

That brought Langford up short. "Well, no, but I assumed…"

"…wrongly. They were sleeping when I left. I did not kill any of them, not even those shooting at me."

"Why were they shooting at you?"

Harry looked at the Jacksons. "What are your names?"

"Melburn and Claire," Hermione said.

"How did you know that?" Claire asked.

"I read your son's autobiography when he was in his thirties," Hermione said as she slumped down, for the first time showing her exhaustion.

"So we're not worried about the world blowing up any more by polluting the timeline?" Harry asked her curiously.

Hermione shook her head and rubbed her neck tiredly. "It's not our world, Harry. Their history is different than ours. We're not ruining our present because this is not our past. It's…I think the gate sent us into another dimension entirely. I just don't know how or why."

"Gate…" Professor Langford said.

"The artifact your father recovered in 1928," Luna explained. "It's actually part of a galaxy-spanning network of artificially induced wormholes capable of transporting people instantaneously to different worlds."

"And…what…what world are you from?" she asked.

"London, England," Harry said flatly. "We're here, Dr. Langford, because we need to know how to operate the gate."

"But…but…you said you came through it!"

"Gates are supposed to have another object—a dialing device," Hermione explained. "The one here doesn't. I don't have the details, but I understand that you and your father were able to make it open briefly in the forties."

"How could you know that?" Langford asked as she sank back down. "And it was Ernest Littlefield and my father who did most of the work. After Ernest died, they locked the program down."

Hermione studied the other woman intently, racking her brain and wishing she'd read those heavily redacted reports more intently. Luna arrived at the same conclusion as Hermione, but a moment faster.

"Ernest is not dead, he just went through the gate to another world," she said.

Langford stared at her, stricken. "Tell me everything you know," she finally said.

* * *

a/n: Thanks for reading.


	10. Brave New World

A/N: Chap 9 review responses are in my forums as normal. Also, about this chapter... It is indulgent. Be warned.

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Brave New World**

"That is so far out," Claire Jackson said with awe in her voice and a distant gaze in her eyes. She was holding little Daniel against her shoulder, since the boy had fallen asleep as Hermione, Luna and Harry told a heavily filtered version of their story.

Catherine Langford's reaction, though, was far different. At some point she'd risen from her desk and stood at a window overlooking the lawn and trees in front of the huge building that formed the heart of her college. She stood with her hands crossed just under her chest, fingering a large, golden Eye of Ra amulet she wore on a chain around her neck.

"And there are people throughout the galaxy?" Melburn Jackson asked. "Are there…aliens?"

"A few," Hermione said. "At least, I believe so. We were not given access to any specifics in the mission reports we read. We were VIPs on a tour pending a company buy-out for one of the Stargate Command suppliers, so the truly classified material was never made available."

Harry could only admire Hermione's ability to lie while telling the absolute truth.

"But your abilities…" Claire began.

"Actually have nothing to do with our current situation," Harry said clearly. "The gate is the issue. We've decided that, because of the differences in our timelines and the world in general, we can do more good out there, among the stars. So we would like your help in figuring out a way to open the gate and return to our last world."

Langford looked down over her crossed arms. When she finally turned to face them, her cheeks were wet. "Powering the gate was never a problem. Even gas-powered generators could get it to light up, although we had to use direct current to keep the generators from blowing up. It absorbed almost any erg of energy we had to throw at it. The problem was getting the symbols aligned. We tried for years." She gave a bitter sigh. "Father told me Ernest died."

The room fell absolutely quiet as Professor Langford considered her next statement. Her voice sounded thick when next she spoke. "This world you came from, what was it like?"

"Dead," Harry said. "Ra and those like him wiped out the original inhabitants. It was a sanctuary from a more dire situation. When we go back, we'll have to find another safe world to travel too. The conditions will likely be primitive, and the peoples oppressed."

"Then why go back?" Melburn asked.

"To destroy the Goa'uld," Harry said. "They've been enslaving humans for thousands of years. They've outlawed writing and reading, and kept the people under them in perpetual servitude for long enough. If we fight from here, we'll bring the Goa'uld here and they will destroy the Earth from orbit. So, we're going back. I'm going to fight for the liberation of the greater portion of humanity in the galaxy."

"So cool," Claire whispered.

Luna leaned forward and studied the other woman. "Dear, are you high?"

Clair blinked wide eyes. "Not…at the moment."

Langford, meanwhile, stood in a pose of profoundly deep thought. "Do you…do you know if he's still alive? Ernest Littlefield, I mean?"

"He must be," Hermione said brightly. "Because I read that you married him a couple of years before you both died. I read your obituary in the Journal of Egyptian Archaeology. I'd developed a passing interest in Egyptology during a project in my teens. The obituary said you only had two years together. He died a few months before you, but you'd said the time you had together was the most precious of your life."

Suddenly, Catherine Langford sobbed, and would have collapsed outright if Hermione did not catch her and guide her to her chair.

"Ernest was the only man she was every in love with," Clair explained gently, while continuing to hold her son. "Once we entered the graduate program with her as our sponsor, she told us about him."

Harry's mind was spinning fast, and when he looked at his family he could see they were both thinking the same thing. "If we had the address…" Hermione thought aloud.

"Come with us," Harry voiced aloud what the others were thinking.

Langford looked up with a tear-stained expression of shock. "What?"

"If you have any record of what symbols they lined up on the gate back then, we can go there again from a different Stargate, and you can find Ernest," Hermione said.

"Coming back would be problematic, though," Luna said. "The military already thinks we're a threat."

"Well, you did beat up that _left_ enant," Hermione pointed out.

"He was groping me. No one touches my boobs but my husband. Or you, as the mood strikes."

Hermione blushed again, while behind them Claire grinned and sent an odd glance to her own husband. But Langford had stopped crying. "The films," she whispered. "We filmed our experiments. I kept a print. It's at my home, in my attic."

"Then we should go," Harry said. He turned and lifted the protections of the room; the moment he did so the Force screamed a warning that had both Hermione and Luna to their feet and removing their sabers from their purses.

Luna darted quickly to the window. "Merlin, there are hundreds."

"What's happening?" Langford asked.

"West must have guessed we'd come to you," Hermione intuited. "The building is completely surrounded. Harry, you can't apparate everyone here, and you're not supposed to apparate children under age four at all. What are we going to do?"

Harry, though, looked hard at Langford. "Catherine, I need to know now. Do you want to come with us?"

"You'll help me find Ernest?"

"I swear to you I will."

They could all see how she squared her shoulders. "Then I'm coming."

"Can we come too?" Claire Jackson said.

"What?" Melburn asked.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," Luna said.

"Luna, stop doing that!" Hermione hissed at her sister before turning back to the Jacksons. "What about your baby?"

"Bring him too, he's adorable," Luna said. "Sometimes I do regret… Think about it, Hermione. Daniel Jackson grows up to be a true genius. Where did he get that from? I think they could really help us."

"I can tell you that Claire and Melburn were my best students, period," Catherine said. "I had to woo Melburn away from applied sciences. He has two undergraduate degrees in engineering and physics before Clair and I convinced him archaeology was his true field."

"But…but…"

"Think about it, Mel!" Claire said with an infection, almost childlike grin. "Whole new worlds, with new cultures!"

"And new diseases and hardships and…"

"Spaceships capable of going thousands of times faster than light," Harry said. "Instantaneous matter transport over thousands of miles. Artificial gravity and anti-gravity. The humans are oppressed, but the Goa'uld are a highly advanced space-faring people, and we will be using that technology."

"Oh, well, that does change things," Mel said without a trace of sarcasm.

"So what's the plan?" Hermione asked.

"Notice-me-not charms on all of you, and a distraction in me," Harry said simply. "Take the Professor wherever she needs to go and keep her and the Jacksons safe. I'll find you when its time."

"Will you be okay?" Claire asked in concern.

Luna, however, laughed. "Oh, Harry's looking forward to it. He needs to work off some stress, so I'm sure it will be very exciting."

Harry couldn't help his grin as he felt adrenaline and the Force flow through him. He walked up to the two women he loved more than anything, and with a touch placed them under his most powerful Notice-Me-Not charms. He did the same to Langford and the Jacksons.

"What was that?" Claire asked.

"Magic that will make it difficult for anyone to notice us," Hermione explained. "Harry, don't kill anyone, please."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Yes, dear."

"Have fun," Luna said.

He kissed her and also said, "Yes, dear."

He opened the door, and in so doing revealed a hemisphere of military police in two rows—one kneeling, the second standing, pointing total of ten pistols at him. "Freeze!" the officer in charge shouted.

Harry raised his hands, but then pushed them forward just slightly. With that motion he Force-pushed the men away from the door. He rushed out so fast he planted a foot on the opposite wall and took three steps fully horizontal before righting himself on the way out. The MPs scrambled back to their feet and ran after, shouting for backup.

And just like that, the way was clear. "So, you're both married to him?" Claire asked casually. "How does that work out for you?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

As a child, before his first death, Harry's best dreams were not of candy or friends. He had two dreams that often saw him through the long nights in the cupboard. The first was his mother smiling at him and holding him. It was less an active dream as it was a feeling that he often clung to during his worst nights. But his second dream was of him running.

Dudley and his gang chased him, but Harry was so fast they could not catch him. Uncle Vernon chased him with his belt, and Aunt Petunia chased him with her frying pan, but they could not catch him. The police came and chased him, but they could not catch him.

"Run, Harry!" Amy Dietzer from Primary shouted from the side of the street, blowing him a kiss.

He liked Amy.

And so he ran, and the whole world followed but could never catch him.

Harry ran now, and the whole world would never catch him.

He could feel Hermione and Luna in the back of his mind as they escorted their new patrons off the campus north to where the professor lived nearby in Morning Side Gardens. But right now, he ran. _Fast_. Try as they might, the military police could not catch up.

Harry made sure not to do anything too inhuman. He laughed at the idea of using Voldemort's flying spell and soaring away like a funny pages hero. Instead, he ran down the halls of the building toward the main stair.

It was not surprising that a group of twenty men in plain white shirts and black ties were running up those stairs accompanied by more MPs, this time holding assault rifles instead of mere pistols. Harry swarmed down to the landing and looked over the oncoming men, then glanced over his shoulder at those already chasing him, and couldn't help but grin. The men on the stairs came to a startled halt as Harry charged them at full speed. Below, students and a few faculty stared in surprise as Harry launched himself into the air, somersaulted over the soldiers and federal agents, and landed at the bottom landing before running the remainder of the way to the lobby.

He burst out of the building at a full sprint, using the Force to boost his speed. Federal agents, local police and more military police literally came out of the woodwork of the surrounding gardens to try and tackle him. Two men—a slim, athletic MP and a New York cop—both had good angles on him. Harry waited until they were almost on him before launching himself up and over, causing both men to collide with each other at full speed.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"This is so far out!" Caire Jackson said enthusiastically. "It's like we're invisible!"

"Within reason," Hermione said. "If you were to walk up and hit somebody, they would notice you and the charm would break."

"Could you do something like this?" Melburn asked.

The six of them (including baby Daniel) were walking up Broadway toward the Morningside Gardens apartment complex. Hermione pursed her lips at the question. "Normally, yes. But our…foci were destroyed. Without them, we're limited in what we can do."

"Foci?" Claire asked.

Luna laughed. "Wands. We're witches. We ride broomsticks, make potions in cauldrons, and cast spells and enchantments. But without wands, we're severely limited on what we can do. That's why we're so sure this isn't our world. There is no magic here, at all."

"Can I ask what happened to your wands?" Langford asked.

Luna told them, while Hermione continued looking around for potential threats. She did her best not to listen to what was still a painful event for her. As they cleared the corner of Broadway and West 123rd, she could see the new buildings rising up from beautifully cultivated gardens. She felt danger in the air, but had difficulty placing it.

The sooner they had a gate address for Ernest Littlefield, the sooner they could get out of New York.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Harry left Barnard College behind, crossed Broadway, and was now racing through the still shell-shocked, riot-ridden campus of Columbia University. On his heels came a virtual army of police, plain-clothed agents and Military Police.

By this time, students and a bevy of reporters who probably covered the campus riots and the early morning resolution to those riots were watching and taking pictures as well. Back in his world, Harry would have been in an unbelievable amount of trouble for revealing even a hint of his abilities in public. On this world, he didn't care. He just needed to continue buying time for his family.

Four NYPD motorcycle officers zoomed onto the campus toward him, followed by a dozen officers mounted on horses.

Harry laughed wildly.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Catherine's hand was shaking when she put key to lock to get into her small apartment. "The place is a mess," she warned. "My aunt just passed away, and I'll be getting her home in Brooklyn, but I admit I was going to miss being so close to campus."

With a sigh, she turned the lock and led them inside a cramped, crowded one bedroom apartment. Sitting at her small dining table was Captain W. O. West. From several other apartments, plain-clothed agents and more military policy poured into the hall behind them.

"Hello, Walter!" Luna said with a jarringly out of context smile. "Thank you so much for letting us use your credit card! Do you like the dress you bought me?" She twirled around to better show off the dress to the nonplussed captain.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Though he did not like to admit it, Harry often became so absorbed in his own pleasures and pursuits that he sometimes became oblivious to the feelings of others. After all, there was no legitimate way the forces of New York could kill him. He'd draped himself in enough magic that nothing short of a large caliber weapon would even touch his skin, and he was moving so fast that there was little chance of them hitting him in the first place.

He chose to stay within the Columbia Campus just because it provided running room, a rarity outside of Central Park. But because he was so caught up in just how much fun he was having, he remained oblivious to the growing frustration of an already tired, frustrated, and even angry New York Police Department.

Harry could not have known the details of the protests which rocked not just Columbia, but the entire city. He couldn't have known that many of the police chasing him had been up since midnight, and some had just gone through what equated to actual combat. Granted, it was against unarmed students, but it was still a frustrating and stressful situation.

If Harry had all the facts, he would not have been surprised when NYPD officers, frustrated, tired and angry at their inability to catch what looked to them like just another student protestor, pulled their guns and started taking shots.

Harry hadn't even noticed—none of the shots were even close. He did not notice, in fact, until he saw in his peripheral vision a young woman who had been cheering him with a handful of others jerk back suddenly as a bullet intended for Harry slammed into her. She fell back with a cry that was lost in the roar of the crowd.

That lingering voice of the Sith in his head urged him to dismiss it. So what if an innocent died? There was always collateral damage in any type of conflict. But that part of him that had spent the past decade creating a corporation, cultivating friends and allies, and loving two women, pointed out that the young woman was now shot because of Harry's actions.

This was not his world; this was not his past. There was no timeline to ruin, nor Statutes of Secrecy to uphold. There was no tactical reason to conceal what he was.

He spun hard on his heel, easily bypassing many of the men chasing him, and ran back to the crowd that had formed around the fallen woman. The crowd saw Harry running right toward them; and as a consequence also saw dozens of angry, armed police, federal agents and military police chasing him.

The chase ended abruptly when Harry stopped on a dime, spun around, and as the men rushed him, unleashed a hell of Force lightning that cracked through the early morning grounds of the hospital like a thunderclap. Men screamed in pain and terror as the kinetic impact of the Force lightning sent them flying back forcibly.

The visual image of something so unearthly caused all those forces chasing Harry to pause and step back, giving him a moment to calmly walk toward the fallen girl. The stunned crowd of students parted ways for him as he found the girl on the ground, gasping as she struggled to breathe while holding another weeping girl's hand. Blood was everywhere.

"What's her name?" Harry demanded.

"Susie," the tear-struck girl said. "Susie Dibney."

Harry nodded as he knelt beside her. The bullet had entered Susie's chest just under her left breast, and obviously had punctured a lung. Gently, Harry lifted her on her side and saw that the bullet had not exited.

"The pigs are coming back!" someone warned.

Harry nodded and looked at the friend. "Where is the nearest hospital?"

"St. Luke's is just a few blocks away," the girl said. "The emergency room's on 114th and Amsterdam."

Harry nodded. "Come when you can." Then, deciding there was no sufficient reason not to, he cast the flying spell on himself, gathered the bleeding girl gently in his arms, and soared into the sky.

The students backed away, shouting in awe. Police officers came to a halt, some dropping their guns from numb fingers. Harry was not so altruistic as to not enjoy the looks of shock and astonishment as he flew over the campus, faster than any law enforcement official could follow, toward the hospital.

He saw the Emergency sign across the street from the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on 114th and slowed to a hover on the sidewalk between three ambulances and the building itself. Paramedics stared, mouth agape, as Harry landed. The door opened as he carried the bleeding girl into the hospital.

The charge nurse came running. "What happened?"

"Shot by a cop, the bullet's still in her lung," Harry said. "I need a gurney, now."

He overwhelmed the nurse's mind with a surge of the Force and she led him to the nearest admitting rooms. Nurses and doctors looked up as he carried the girl in and placed her on the gurney. "We'll take it from here…" a doctor said, arriving moments later.

"Not until I get the bullet out," Harry said. He held a hand over her chest, and employing magic rather than Force energy, he conjured the bullet from her chest in a flash. He handed it to the confused doctor. Though he knew there was a spell for clearing the lungs, he didn't know it. Instead, he used the Force to clear some of the blood from the damaged lung before using the magical spells he did know to knit the tissue together.

"There, that's all I can do for her," he said.

"What the hell did you do?" the doctor asked.

Harry shrugged and started walking toward the exit. Naturally, that's when several officers arrived. This time, Harry didn't bother running. He spun in place and disappeared from the center of the Emergency Room floor.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"I think this ruse has gone on long enough," West said. "Arrest them all, we can sort this out later once they're in custody."

Hermione and Luna shared a glance, before looking at the terrified Clair Jackson cradling her baby protectively. Luna then smiled as they both felt Harry's presence. Behind them, the agents and soldiers' eyes rolled up into their heads as they simply fell to the floor. Clair screeched a little as she jumped back from the one nearest her.

West, meanwhile, jumped to his feet as Harry walked calmly into the room, stepping over the fallen. "How do you keep doing that?" West demanded angrily.

With a gesture, Harry summoned the man's gun from his hand and pocketed it.

"Are they dead?" Clair asked in a tremulous voice. Melburn, however, knelt by the man closest to him and felt for a pulse.

"Asleep?" he asked.

"At the moment," Harry said. "My wife told me not to kill anyone, and I do try not to get on her bad side. You wouldn't like her when she's angry."

"Shush, Harry," Hermione said. "Professor, do you need help finding your film?"

"No, I know where it is."

She left the living area. Harry, meanwhile, levitated all the men out into the hallway before closing the door. Then, rather than cast wand wards, he used his fingers to trace in more powerful runic wards into the trim of the door itself. "What are…are those Norse runes?" Clair asked. "Why are they glowing?"

"Magic," Luna explained. "In our world, there were two main branches of Western magic—the wanded magic which originated from the Mediterranean, and the Runic which originated from the Norse tribes. The Norse had wands, of course, but they were used almost exclusively by woman for fertility magic. The men expressed their magic using runes."

"Amazing," Claire said as she stepped closer. Holding Daniel in one hand and pushing her glasses up in another, she watched as Harry finished the ward schema. "So, protection, silence, strength, bane of enemies…"

Harry turned, one brow raised. "You know runes?"

"Well, I specialized in Egyptian studies, but I _am_ an archaeologist," she said a little archly.

Harry grinned. "Good to know. Captain West, sit down. We're not going to be interrupted for a while."

"When those men wake up, or when I don't report in, they are going to come down on this place like a hammer," West warned.

"I don't really care," Harry said. Langford emerged from her room carrying a dark green projector case and several rolls of films. She placed the projector on a coffee table that occupied the center of her small living space.

Opening it, she turned to Hermione and said, "Can you set it up while I get the screen?"

Hermione stared at it with a frown. "I don't think so. I mean, I've never set one up before."

Melburn scoffed. "You don't know how to set up a projector?"

"It was 2004 when we stepped through the gate," Harry said. "Everything was digital. I had a device the size of your wallet that could access the sum total of all human knowledge in seconds."

"What did you use it for?" Claire asked, entranced at the idea.

"A telephone, primarily," Hermione said.

"And a way to watch people's funny cats," Luna added. "I do so love funny cat videos."

As Melburn stuttered at the sheer improbability of that statement, Langford sighed and set the projector and film roll up herself before disappearing again, only to return with a white screen on a tripod, which she also set up. They watched the black and white reel running, and even West sat up with interest. "You aren't supposed to have this," he said ominously to Langford.

"My father found the thing, and even if I wasn't allowed to participate in the lab, Ernest and I discussed it every day," Langford snapped. Harry could see just from her tone that she knew the captain. "Walter, he told me Earnest died, but said the details were on this reel."

"You never watched it?" Hermione asked, curious.

Catherine shook her head. "I could never make myself watch him die. I just couldn't…oh my God."

The black and white film was grainy, but it showed the gate, and how people were manually dialing it. "Oh, that's much better quality than I feared," Hermione said as she grabbed a notepad and pen and began jotting down the addresses.

Catherine stood with her hands over her mouth as the man she loved donned a diver's helmet placed. He walked up a ramp to the active gate and just crossed over before the gate deactivated.

"Did you see them tugging the rope?" Hermione asked.

"Yes?" Catherine said.

"That's what caused it to shut down, I bet. The wormholes only allow matter to travel in one direction. Energy can flow both ways, but matter can only go forward. The moment they tugged the rope, the reverse flow of matter likely caused the gate's safety measures to deactivate it. But in the meantime, I have the address."

"Catherine, you know we won't let you get near the gate," West said. "It's already been moved, and we'll keep moving if we have to."

Harry stepped to the captain, and with sudden violence slammed his hand into the man's mind, if only for a moment. West collapsed to the floor, groaning.

"If I had my wand, I could have done that without hurting him," Luna said. "Sadly, Harry is not subtle."

"What…what did you do?"

"The gate's on its way to Dover Air Force Base," Harry said. "Pack quickly, Catherine. Clothes, maybe a few mementos. Keep to the essentials. If you have sturdy boots, wear them, but we'll probably go shopping before we leave as well. No dresses."

"Will he be okay?" Catherine asked. "He's not a bad man; I've worked with him before."

"He'll be fine, and won't remember a thing," Harry said. "Now, I believe it's time to get out of here."


	11. Exodus

A/N: Chap 10 review responses are in my forums like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Exodus**

It was a simple matter of apparating Hermione, Luna, Catherine and Melburn to Grand Central Station. With West still unconscious from Harry's foray into his brain, and massive protections around the rest of the apartment, that much was easy.

But Claire Jackson and her baby were another issue entirely. "So this teleporting thing you do is bad for babies?" she asked.

"It momentarily…scrambles your neurons, you might say," Harry explained as he considered their options. "In an adult, that's not an issue. Everything resets. But with an infant, it could lead to damage to newly forming pathways. So it's strongly discouraged."

"So what are we going to do?"

"I was thinking about flying," Harry admitted.

"You can fly?"

"Yep." He pulled open the curtains, but frowned when he saw a large attack helicopter hovering just a few dozen meters away from the window. Behind him, Claire screamed as the helicopter opened fire with its cannon. Daniel started crying from being so abruptly and frightfully woken.

The air in front of the window blazed white as the kinetic wards vaporized the bullets. Claire, realizing they weren't dead yet, slowly stood. "That's amazing," she whispered. "How are you…?"

"Runic wards are strong," he said. "But they won't last forever, especially against a cannon. We need to move."

"Astonishing."

"Problematic," Harry said. "Because once we leave the shelter of the wards, I won't be able to fly and stop the bullets at the same time. Frankly I'm amazed they brought that thing into the middle of the city."

"So what are you going to do?"

Harry pursed his lips as he considered his options. He could easily destroy the war machine, but doing so would have collateral damage Hermione and Luna would both be upset with. While that wasn't the sole consideration, it did play a part in his decision making.

"Let's go around," he said. He stepped away from Claire, lit a lightsaber, and cut a round hole in Dr. Langford's ceiling. He motioned her to come, and when she did, he put an arm around her waist. "Hang on to Daniel," he said. He then levitated them up through the hole into the next apartment up.

"Wow, just like Superman," Claire said with a girlish giggle. "Am I your Lois Lane?"

Harry blinked and stared down at the mischievously grinning woman with her toddler squirming in her arms. He couldn't help but notice she was a very attractive woman in a luscious way that his light Luna and svelte Hermione just weren't. "Are you hitting on me?"

Her grin widened as she shrugged.

"What about your husband?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind swapping."

Harry then remembered this was 1968, and Claire Jackson was nothing if not an utter, raging hippy. "I appreciate the interest, but my wives can kill with a thought. That's not the type of relationship you want to risk intruding into."

"Too bad," Claire said with a little pout. "I bet Luna might be open, though."

Harry sighed in part because he wasn't sure Clair was wrong, and cut another hole up. It was not surprising that the whole building had been evacuated. By going straight up through the apartments themselves, he avoided the hundreds of men he could sense prowling the halls and roof of the building. When he came to the last floor up, six floors above where the helicopter still hovered, Harry walked the young mother and her child to the window. He cut around the window frame and caught it in the Force to keep it from falling, thus making a wide opening in the wall.

He then cast _disillusionment_ charms on himself, mother and child before taking her in his arms again. He could feel her breath on his neck, and little Jackson's hand on his arm. "This is going to feel strange," he warned. They took off through the window, flying over the city of New York just like Superman.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Claire and Melburn lived in Jersey City, a few blocks from Lincoln Park, in a narrow, two-story stand-alone house on Lexington. The crowded green Volkswagen Squareback they picked up from the train stop where the Jackson's switched to public transportation rolled to a stop in front of the house, disgorging six adults and a baby from a car built to comfortably hold four. The moment they were out of the car, Melburn and Claire rushed up the stairs to their covered porch, talking rapidly about what to pack and who to contact. Catherine followed a few steps behind, her own suit-case in hand.

"I'm not sure about bringing them along," Harry said when it was just he and his wives. "Claire hit on me!"

Luna snickered. "She's very pretty. What did you say?"

Harry and Hermione both turned and stared aghast at the blonde. "Luna!" Hermione stuttered.

Luna, though, looked at Harry, her snicker changing to a bittersweet smile. "When I was fifteen, Harry, you took my virginity right in front of your wife. You didn't even hesitate. So, a beautiful young woman throws herself at you now, but you not only refuse, you act shocked. What's different?"

Harry stared, both surprised and uncomfortable. But her steady gaze demanded an answer. "I…if I did that, I would be betraying you and Hermione."

"You betrayed Hermione to her face with me," Luna pointed out.

"It didn't feel like betrayal then."

"It still hurt," Hermione admitted in a small voice. "At the time, I was so lost in you that I passed the pain off, but it hurt to watch you make love to another woman, after all I'd sacrificed for you."

Caught between them, he finally said, "I'm not the same man I was then. I would never do anything to hurt either of you. Not now."

Luna nodded, and then leaned up and forward to lock him in a long, lingering kiss. "Because, Harry Potter, you've developed empathy. A little, anyway. You had none, for the longest time. But you have it now, and that just makes me love you all the more."

"But what about the Jacksons?" Hermione asked.

"I'm sure she'd love you too," Luna said with a mischievous glint that oddly echoed Claire Jackson. "Although, I'm just as happy to only share you with Hermione."

"I meant bringing them with us," Hermione said.

"I know, love," Luna said. She turned and leaned her back into Harry as he leaned against the wagon, his arms around her stomach. "I'm just following the Force, since it's all I have at the moment. The Force tells me they should come."

"Well the Force tells me we won't have much time here," Harry said. "What should we bring?"

"Anything we can," Hermione said. "I think we should all have backpacks. Harry, do you know how to do expansion charms?"

"Not the foggiest. That was always your department."

Hermione blew a strand of hair from her forehead. "Well, I don't have a wand anymore, so it's time for you to learn. Come on, let's go."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

It was fortunate that the Jacksons were consummate backpackers, because Harry blew up four of their packs with overpowered space expansion charms before, under Hermione's constant tutorship, he finally mastered the charm. The second charm, on their remaining pack, proved much easier.

Melburn stared into the first completed backpack with a stunned expression. "How much will it hold?"

Harry shrugged. "I expanded the interior by a thousand times or so, so it should hold as much as a typical house would, but with charms to cut the weight. Still, we should go to an outfitter before we leave. Where we're going, we can't count on getting fuel for a while. And it was fairly cold."

The young couple shared a strangely happy, excited smile with each other. "This is so cool," Claire finally said. "This is better than that Mayan expedition we did last year with my dad!"

Melburn tossed the expanded pack over his shoulders. "We use an outfitter in Newark that has everything we could possibly need. We're a little broke, though. What's the budget?"

"Since we're going to be stealing it, pretty much unlimited," Harry noted.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

By the time the Squareback reached the road leading to Dover Air Force Base, each of them had a hiking pack filled to a thousand times capacity with hiking supplies, magically preserved food, and personal essentials. Claire Jackson was virtually bobbing in her seat with youthful excitement, holding Jackson in her arms without regard to the boy's safety. Her husband seemed a bit more cautious, but only mildly so.

"So how are we going to get in?" Melburn asked as they skirted Philadelphia on their way to Wilmington. "Do we even know where the…what'd you call it, Stargate...is?"

"It's in a warehouse on the base," Harry said. "Under heavy lock and key. I was planning on making the car invisible, and silencing it."

"And that generator we picked up?" Claire asked.

"That's for the gate," Catherine said from her spot between Hermione and Harry. "I know we've talked a lot about…well, a lot. But I've been thinking—suppose we find Ernest. What do we do next? Where will we go?"

"Cartago, I believe," Luna said from between the backpacks in the rear of the station wagon.

"Cartago!" Hermione sputtered. "Luna, they were awful to us! They made us slave away in fields for days, only to turn around and give us to the Goa'uld!"

"Exactly," Luna said, her smile taking on an uncharacteristically predatory look. "They owe us. But more importantly, they have a sizable agrarian population with a food surplus that we're going to need if we truly wish to fight the Goa'uld."

"We _are_ going to need a base of operations," Harry mused from the cramped back. "More importantly, I don't want this to solely be a fight of the Jaffa against their Goa'uld masters. The baseline humans have to have a stake in the future as well, or else the Jaffa will just replace the Goa'uld. If humans see that they can fight Jaffa and win, it will go a long way to removing that aura of invincibility the Jaffa have. Cartago sounds like as good a place as any."

"And what if the people there don't want you?" Catherine asked carefully.

Harry considered the question, and the woman asking it. "Dr. Langford, I do not wish to mislead you. There will be fighting, and it will not be a black and white, good versus evil fight at all times. From what Hermione said, the Byrsa people were essentially slaves to Apophis, kept intentionally illiterate and primitive. I have no doubt that some of them will resist, but at the end of the day, I truly believe our intervention will be better for them and their descendants."

"That's what the British said of India," Melburn pointed out.

"The Indian people weren't being subjected to the cruelties and whims of actual alien gods," Hermione said. "While I hate what they did to us, the fact is Apophis went to Cartago expecting human sacrifices. That, at least, we can stop."

"I am first and foremost a fighter, Catherine," Harry continued. "I am a product of war and evil in a way you can't imagine. It is only because of Luna and Hermione that I'm not another Stalin or Hitler. I _will_ be conquering worlds, make no mistake. But with the voices of my better conscience, perhaps we can provide a better rule than the monsters we replace."

"And what if we don't agree with your actions?" Melburn asked from the driver's seat.

"Then you return home, you and your family," Harry said. "That, I give you my unqualified word on. None of you will be prisoners, ever. At least, not ever by our hand. I can make no promises if the Goa'uld capture us."

"Which also reminds me of our excavation in Guatemala," Claire said with an excited grin from the front passenger seat, where she cradled a sleepy toddler.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Melburn drove toward the wide gates of Dover Air Force Base in an invisible VW. He stopped at the intersection that led to the entrance and stared, along with the rest, at the veritable army that guarded the entrance. Each of the lanes leading into and out of the base were blocked by lines of jeeps mounted with heavy machine guns. Further behind the jeeps, Harry could see at least two M113 armored personnel carriers with more machine guns.

"Is that…because of us?" Melburn asked.

"I really need to work on my memory charms," Harry muttered.

"Harry, you flew across New York City in front of everybody," Hermione pointed out. Timelines or not, she was not thrilled by his rather blatant display. "I'm pretty sure they knew were out and about. If only I had my wand, I could enchant the car to fly."

"Couldn't you do that?" Claire asked Harry.

He shrugged. "I could blow a car up, throw it a mile or levitate it, but making it fly on its own power is more along Hermione's lines. I'm more like a broadsword to her and Luna's scalpels."

"And unfortunately our scalpels broke," Hermione said darkly. "So, what do you think we should do, Harry?"

"Portkey the car?" Harry asked.

"We'd be reduced to putty by the acceleration," Luna said. "Portkeys only move things directly in contact with them. Even if we turned the car into a portkey itself, I doubt it would work without a great deal of expertise which none of us have."

"I could apparate us all into the base and fly in Claire and Daniel."

"To where, I wonder?" Luna said. "We still don't know for sure where the gate is."

"Well we have to do something!" Hermione said.

"Maybe we could just let them bring it to us," Claire suggested from the front seat.

All of them leaned forward and watched with interest as a large truck approached the back of the gate with a flatbed trailer hitched behind it. And on that trailer they all saw a sixteen foot high, sixteen foot wide, three foot thick wooden box strapped securely down.

"Hmm, that works too," Harry said.

The jeeps pulled out in front of, and then behind the tractor trailer. And moments later, a pair of large, loud helicopter gunships flew overhead. "I didn't know they had those in 1968," Hermione muttered.

"Cobra helicopters were released in '67," Harry noted absently. "And they were so good the US marines and NATO allies were still using them in '04. They're going to be a problem. Melburn, drive behind them. Remember, they can't see us—the first generation Cobras have no infra-red sighting."

"So what's the plan?" Hermione asked as they drove onto the highway.

"I'm going to stop the truck," Harry said. "Hermione, Luna, I'm going to need you to keep the men off me while I neutralize the Cobras. I'm hoping they won't fire into their own men. Melburn, just keep following until they all stop. Stay in the car until we signal you to come."

Harry opened the back hatch of the crowded vehicle and levitated out of it. He slammed the door shut and then soared forward, cloaked in _disillusionment_. He alit on the front half of the trailer just in front of the gate. Keeping his feet required some concentration as he moved forward until he could see the wheels of the rig underneath the connector.

He lit his saber and quickly punctured two tires before deactivating it again, all in the space of a second. The truck listed and began braking immediately—the fact it did not overturn or fishtail was a testament to the skill of the driver and the relatively slow speed of the convoy.

Around the slowing truck, jeeps and personnel carriers formed a tight perimeter. Alert guards scanned the surrounding countryside with heavy caliber machine guns while the crew in the cab jumped out to begin changing the tires.

Harry apparated to the nearest carrier, grabbed the man at the machine gun and flung him out before using the Force to flip the vehicle upside down, taking it out of the fight. Immediately machine guns opened up on another of the vehicles, but Harry was already gone. He appeared on another jeep, and with an easy swipe of his blade cut the machine gun in half.

He felt Luna and Hermione entering the fray and moved on as they also began disabling the machine guns. The two gunships came roaring toward them. The soldiers were busy with Luna and Hermione which gave Harry the time he needed to deal with the real threats.

With a deep breath to center himself, Harry grasped one of the machines in the Force and brought it crashing down. Powerful rotors slammed into the ground as it tipped over side-ways upon landing, sending earth and blades of metal flying, but leaving the pilots alive.

The second Cobra tried pulling away, but Harry grasped it like the first and pulled it down with similar results. Fortunately they were far enough away that the shattered rotor blades missed the other combatants entirely.

Hermione and Luna were fighting almost thirty armed soldiers, though those soldiers were now reduced to small arms. Still, in a strange way bullets were actually harder to deflect with lightsabers than blaster bolts. If the exchange continued, it was only a matter of time before one of the bullets being fired slipped through Hermione and Luna's defenses. After all, it was not Sith who actually killed the majority of the Jedi Order, it was soldiers not so very different than those they faced.

Both girls knew it and took to the offensive. They both lashed out with Force lightning—perhaps not on the scale Harry was capable of—but it was still a devastating strike because there was little to no defense against it.

Harry apparated to behind where individual clumps of men were fighting and stunned them, group by group, until the last group threw down their weapons and said, "We surrender!"

Somehow, Harry was not surprised to find West there. However, this time the young captain was accompanied by an older, grizzled colonel who looked like he was about to start spitting out his own teeth as he threw down a pistol in disgust.

Harry summoned all the weapons away. Once the prisoners were secured, Hermione waved. Nearby, Melburn, Claire and Daniel Jackson climbed out of apparent nothingness with Catherine Langford.

"Langford, you're going to hang for this!" the old Colonel growled.

"I don't know, Colonel," Harry said calmly. "I can't see the future, but I doubt it."

"Actually, I _can_ see the future, and she won't," Luna said with a smile. "Walter, are you okay, dear? I know we've had to be hard on your brain. Would you like me to check it to make sure Harry's intrusion didn't cause any tumors?"

Captain West stammered, but fell silent at a hard glare from the colonel. The older man then turned to stare hard at Harry. "The United States government does not take kindly to attacks on its own soil. You won't get away with this. There is not one place on this planet you will be able to go where we won't find you."

"Colonel, what makes you think I'm going to stay on this planet?" Harry said bluntly. "Hermione, Luna?"

The two women used their sabers to easily sever the bindings on the box, allowing each of the sixteen foot square side panels to fall away and reveal the ring itself. Only then did Harry sigh in relief. "You know, if you'd have been really smart, you would have moved an empty box and kept the original someplace safe."

The colonel glowered, but Harry noticed how West had the grace to blush and look away, saying clearly without words that he had argued for that very tactic. Harry dismissed the exchange and helped carry the heavy gas-powered generator toward the gate. They ran simple battery cables from the generator to the outer edge of the ring. Melburn pulled the starter on the portable generator, which roared to life with a cloud of black diesel exhaust.

"Can we go get Ernest first?" Catherine asked.

"Not from this gate, I don't believe," Hermione said. "We think you found the address wholly by accident, and it was just a quirk it worked at all because of stellar drift. If we dial the address in through an intact gate, I believe it will give us a better chance of connecting."

Catherine accepted this with a nod. Harry, meanwhile, walked until he stood facing the gate and reached out with the Force to begin dialing. "Cortosis," he muttered as the odd metal slipped from his first grasp. He concentrated harder, and the gate began to spin and the symbols locked with a reassuring clang.

The seventh symbol locked, but the wormhole never formed. "Damn, the generator isn't enough," Catherine said.

"Pull up the jeeps," Hermione said.

Melburn ran to the nearest and drove it to the edge of the trailer. A dig through the jeep's supplies located another pair of connectors. The jeep's engine roared, and with that surge of power the gate's event horizon exploded outward.

"Hermione, Luna, take them through!" Harry called over the sound of the rush.

His family began aiding their new allies onto the trailer as Harry sauntered back to the wide-eyed colonel and captain. "Gentlemen," Harry said, "we are leaving Earth. I doubt we will be back. Before we leave, though, I would very, very strongly suggest you take that gate and bury it. Encase it in cement and dump it in the ocean. Because on the other side are gods and monsters."

"You're threats aren't…."

Harry reached out a hand, gripped the colonel by the throat, and levitated him in the Force. "Just days ago, I walked on a world that was just like Earth. It had people who loved each other, and wanted to just live their lives. And when the gods that built the pyramids and enslaved thousands of your ancestors had no more use for that world, they killed it. The entire planet, Colonel, was rendered utterly lifeless. And entire species—an entire ecosystem—was rendered extinct at the whim of an alien god. And I swear to you, Colonel, that if those gods discover you and this world, they will kill every man, woman and child on Earth and there won't be a damned thing you can do about it. They'd kill you from orbit, and you'd never see the enemy that destroys you. Bury the gate, and never let it see the light of day again."

With that last warning, Harry let the colonel drop, nodded to the speechless West, and left Earth for the last time.


	12. The Wrath of the Gods

A/N: Chap 11 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: The Wrath of the Gods**

Harry crossed through the gate, and the transition from pleasant spring day to bitterly cold night startled him. At the foot of the gate, he saw Langford and the Jacksons pulling on coats from their backpacks. Hermione and Luna shimmered in warming charms.

"Wandless?" Harry asked over the wind.

"Yes!" Hermione crowed proudly.

From the nearby ruins, Harry saw movement and looked up in time to see Bra'tac walking toward them, still in the same armor and cloak as before, though the cloak now was over his shoulders in a protective shroud, rather than carried over his arm.

"You have returned," he said neutrally.

Harry looked briefly to his wives before walking to the older Jaffa. "We don't understand everything, Bra'tac, but the world we returned to was not the world we left. That was not our home, and we won't be going there again."

The old Jaffa studied Harry's face for a long moment before accepting his statement with a barely perceptible dip of his bearded chin. "And those?" he said.

"Tau'ri we think might be helpful," Harry said. "The gate was not usable when we arrived, and they helped us fix it so that we could return. They do not speak Goa'uld, though."

"They shall learn quickly, then," Bra'tac said. It was a statement of fact, more than anything. "What is it you wish to do now, Ha'ri Potter?"

"I have a promise to keep, for one of those colleagues. We will collect her mate, lost on a forgotten world. And then we will return to Cartago. The world is rich in natural resources and will make a good base of operations."

"The Byrsa have little love for the Jaffa," Bra'tac noted carefully.

"And I have little love for the Byrsa. They handed my family and me to Apophis. But they will accept us, one way or the other."

"So be it," Bra'tac said, before turning and walking back to the shelter.

Harry looked back to the others. "Hermione, Luna, will you stay with the Jacksons? And perhaps start helping them with learning Goa'uld?"

"That's a good idea," Hermione said. To Claire, she said, "It's the _lingua Franca_ of the greater galaxy, for better or worse. Much like ancient, pre-dynastic Egyptian."

Harry watched as his wives escorted the Jacksons into the ruins. Catherine Langford stepped to his side, shivering despite her heavy coat. "What is this place?"

"An alien world," Harry said. "Thousands of years ago, the Goa'uld conquered it to mine the mineral used in the gate. And when the mineral deposits were exhausted, they killed the world, and all the people who lived on it. Just to ensure they would never be a threat."

"These Goa'uld sound terrible."

"Because they are. Are you ready?"

Langford took a long, deep breath. "Not at all. Shall we go?"

Harry held Hermione's notes on the address and dialed them quickly. The wormhole formed, and without any hesitation, they stepped through.

Catherine tripped as they emerged from the gate; Harry caught her automatically. They stood in what looked like a reception hall of a crumbling, ancient castle. It actually reminded Harry a great deal of Hogwarts.

And in front of them, his jaw gaping, stood a man with lank, thinning brown hair and the tattered remains of cloth worn like a diaper. His bare chest was not broad, but he had the wiry muscles of a man accustomed to hard work. But most importantly, he was alive and in what seemed like, at first glance, good health.

Catherine covered her mouth. "Oh my God! Ernest, is it really…is it really you?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Harry left the two to get acquainted as he took a brief tour of the castle. It was obviously not of human design—he could see that just in the way the walls were joined. It reminded him vaguely of Duros architecture in the Corusca galaxy, during his brief life as a Sith. If anything, the structure looked almost like a primitive, digital library.

He could hear the long-lost lovers speaking—he heard tones of pain, loss and regret. Eventually, though, he heard Catherine calling for him. When he arrived, she stood next to the dialing device with a stricken expression. "It's broken," she said. "The dialing device. That's why Ernest was never able to come back."

Harry felt a surge of anger at himself for not bringing the generator, before he blinked with a new thought. Langford said back on Earth that the gate would accept almost any form of energy. He walked to the gate and then lashed out with a brief touch of Force lightning. And just as Catherine said, the gate sucked in the energy eagerly. "Bugger me," he muttered. "Okay, problem solved. Ernest Littlefield, my name is Harry Potter. Are you coming with us?"

The balding man looked from Catherine to Harry with a puzzled expression. "You mean you'd leave me here?"

Harry shrugged. "I admit, it's probably a silly question. What I mean is I won't take you unless you say so. If you wanted, I could return you both to Earth. But I think, Ernest, you would find it a far different world than you know. You are as far removed from it in your own way as I am."

"But…but…where else would I go?"

"There are thousands of worlds with gates just like this one," Harry said. "But you don't have to decide to go to Earth right now. Gather whatever you want to take, and we'll at least get you someplace where you can eat."

"Real food…" he said wistfully. "The only things of value I have are my notes. I'll get them now."

When he returned, Harry used the Force to once again dial Sanctuary. "How are you doing that?" Ernest asked.

"I'm a wizard from an alternate future timeline of Earth," Harry said. "I'm using magic."

"Huh."

Once the address was entered, Harry gathered the Force and blasted the gate. The Force lightning flickered over the cortosis ring, which he knew this galaxy called naquedah, and the Gate sucked it all up and the wormhole burst open.

"Go!" Harry said. "I don't know how long it will last."

With no further prompting, Ernest and Catherine ran through, and Harry followed seconds later.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

That morning, the refugees carried all the supplies Bra'tac and his resistance had gathered toward the gate, struggling under the weight of weapons and food. Bra'tac, one arm trembling under the weight of ten staff weapons, dialed a gate address. Harry noticed that Claire and Melburn were already speaking to a pair of girls in manufactured clothing in halting Goa'uld. Evidently the two archaeologists had a gift of languages.

Despite their burdens, the refugees moved quickly just to get out of the bitterly cold wind.

Harry was the last, and used magic and the Force to carry three huge amphoras of _heqet_.

He transitioned from a bitterly cold wind, to a bitterly cold blizzard. "Oh, this is much better," he muttered darkly.

"It's this way!" he heard Hermione cry as she led everyone toward shelter. Through the blinding white of the storm Harry saw a large shadow forming, until he grew close enough to see the outline of a large, multi-story building. A few more steps brought him through a pair of large metal doors and into spacious interior room that held in its center a raised, circular platform surrounded by stone rails. All around the building, stone and metal seemed to be the décor.

The refugees shivered and stamped their feet against the cold. Harry spotted Bra'tac and walked toward him. "Hermione has said that this was a Goa'uld structure."

"Indeed," Bra'tac said. "It is an ancient Jaffa barracks. An'hur and I will see if there is any power remaining, and perhaps water."

The two Jaffa left; Harry looked around until he saw Hermione and Luna both casting heating charms around the room using what wandless magic they could. Oil lamps cast a weak, warm glow over the room. Harry added his own warming charms and soon the room became bearable for the poorly equipped refugees.

Ten minutes later, artificial lighting flooded the room. Bra'tac emerged covered in soot and dust, but grinning. "As you see, we have restored power. Say what you will, the Goa'uld generators last forever. An'hur is working on the heating system now."

Overhead, the ceiling vents coughed out huge clouds of dust that billowed down like heavy smoke, indicating the heating was working. Harry began casting powerful air-freshening charms until the dust was gone.

Bra'tac frowned. "I feel I should have predicted that. It is good your magic cleansed the air. So, we have heat, we have power. We shall wait out this storm and then speak to the Byrsa."

That proved unnecessary, however, as just moments after An'hur returned a group of five Byrsa men carrying primitive, ineffectual-looking crossbows rushed into the room. "Foul witches!" one of the men screamed as he ran toward where Hermione stood talking with Catherine and Ernest.

Bra'tac surged forward to come to her aid, as any old warrior would, but Harry just shook his head and smiled. Hermione did not even bother drawing her lightsaber; she raised a hand and unleashed a short burst of Force-lightning that dropped all five men to the floor screaming before they could fire a single shot.

Bra'tac stopped in his tracks, while all the refugees stood frozen in shock and even a little fear as they stared at Hermione. Harry, however, walked calmly to the fallen men, and with a wave of his hand summoned the cross-bows into a pile on the other side of the room. He picked the leader who had shouted, and with a gesture levitated him off the ground.

"Why did you attack my wife?" he asked.

"You are a witch!" the terrified man screamed.

"I prefer wizard, but my family are witches. That does not answer my question. Why did you attack us?"

"They brought the wrath of the gods down on us!" the man wailed. "All is lost! The Matrona and the elders are all dead. So many are dead, and our food has been burned! All because you have angered the gods."

Harry dropped the man and looked to Bra'tac. "Any idea what he's talking about?"

"Apophis is easily angered," Bra'tac said. "You and yours destroyed his beloved Amaunet and one of his favored offspring, so his anger would be great. And since you were offerings from the Byrsa, his anger would extend to them as well."

Harry looked at the cowering man, and now that the immediate threat was over, he noticed all five looked thin and hungry. "When the gods attacked, was it from the heavens, or from the Chappa'ai?"

"They came through the gate!" the man cried, weeping now. "They came in great numbers and marched to the caves where we lived. They took our food and burned that they didn't take. They shot the Matrona and all the elders, and then collapsed the caves on the younger people. My wife and my children are in those caves!"

"Then this world is dead to Apophis," Bra'tac said grimly. "He will not come again, not for many years, and then only with new slaves to farm for his Jaffa."

"So instead of being angry with Apophis for destroying their civilization, they're angry at us for angering him?" Hermione summed up, incredulous.

"That is the way of things," Bra'tac said. "The gods are what they are. To curse them is to invite even greater wrath. Far safer to curse those who invoke the gods' wrath."

Harry released his hold on the man, who fell with a yelp and scrambled back to his fellows. "We have food and drink," he said to the men. "A little, anyway. We can't do anything until the storm passes. When it is over, lead me to the caves and I will do what I can to help you."

"We do not want the help of witches!" one of the other men snarled.

"Then leave," Harry said coldly. "And you shall not receive it."

The man stood on trembling legs. "Himilco, come!"

The first man who Harry interrogated did not move, however. Instead, he stared up at Harry. "You…you would save my family?"

"If they still live, yes," Harry said simply.

"Himilco, he is a witch! He invites the wrath of the gods!"

"I'm going to kill your gods," Harry told the other man. "He struck out at you because he could not kill me. And when I am done with your people, he will not even be able to strike at you. I returned here to make you strong. If you wish to continue being weak, leave. I have no use for you. But if you join me, not only will you fight for me, I will fight for you, and protect those you cherish."

"The wrath of the gods shall fall on you, Himilco!"

"It already has, Tesson," Himilco said. He looked to Harry with tears in his eyes. "Save my family, I beg of you, and I will do anything you say!"

In disgust, the other Byrsa named Tesson turned and stalked out of the building and into the blizzard. The remaining three men appeared torn between their choices, but when Hermione opened an amphora of beer, the promise of sustenance alone was enough to sway them.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The storm lasted throughout their first day and finally broke during the early morning hours of the second. They woke up to wan sunlight streaming through the doors of the building.

Harry, clad in a thick coat transfigured from a blanket, opened the doors inward to find the way blocked by a solid wall of snow. Luna stepped up beside him, past the four Byrsa men. "Oh, how lovely!" She pursed her lips held out her hand, and muttered the snow clearing spell aloud as she had not had to do since Hogwarts.

The snow shifted enough to spill some onto the floor. Frowning, she repeated the spell louder, and this time the snow flew away in a flurry of powder until a path extended six feet past the door. On either side, walls of snow as tall as their heads glistened in the morning sun. "Oh, that was exhausting without a wand," Luna muttered in dismay.

Himilco breathed out in awe. "Can you do this all the way to the caves?"

She frowned. "Hmm, not by myself, I'm afraid. Harry can, though, so no worries. Feather weight charm please, Harry?"

He placed the charm on her and with a gesture levitated her onto the snow. Her feet were protected by a pair of transfigured boots he'd made the night before. The others could only stare at the girl who could walk on fresh fallen snow without sinking into it.

Harry led the way out of the building into the bright, bitterly cold morning. Bra'tac walked behind, while An'hur and Teal'c stayed with Hermione and the other refugees.

Before they reached the end of the section Luna cleared, Harry cleared another section. It too was six feet long, not because Harry was weaker, but because the spell itself had a set effect area. Harry could have used the Force or just sheer brute power to clear the snow, but the Snow Plow charm was the most efficient and easy way to do it. And with his magic, he could do it without pause all day long.

He was on his fifth section when a rosy-cheeked, red-nosed Luna looked over the edge of the snow-wall. She was no longer smiling. "Apophis destroyed everything, Harry. All the Byrsa structures and crops are gone. Keep your senses out for me so you don't accidently plow me."

She winked at the double entendre and then disappeared. At Himilco's direction, Harry continued charming snow out of their way in a steady rate. The snow walls insulated them somewhat, but since there was not even a breeze, the air was as still out of the trench as within it. It took nearly an hour to go those two miles, but by the time they reached the caves, Harry had created a solid, semi-insulated trail within the snow.

They found Tesson frozen to death on the scree-pile that covered the entrance to the caves, barely recognizable in the snow. Himilco rushed forward with a cry of dismay. "My old friend," he said sadly. "Oh, my dearest old friend. You were always so stubborn!"

Harry, meanwhile, cleared a large area around the mouth of the cave. He was just finishing when Luna appeared. "I found bodies," she said sadly. "Thousands. It looks as if Apophis just lined them up and shot them."

"That is what happened," Himilco said with tears in his eyes. "I was a coward! I and my hunters watched from the trees as they shot the Matrona and all the elders, and so many more. I did nothing."

"Which is why you still live," Bra'tac said wisely. "There is no honor in throwing your lives away."

Harry, meanwhile, studied the rock fall. "Luna, give me some probabilities. With the cave collapse further if I just blast it away?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "Though I don't need the Force to tell me that. Remove the stones one at a time from the top. I would help, but you can do it faster on your own."

"Fine." Harry turned to the Byrsa and Bra'tac. "All of you stand behind me. Do not venture to either side or you might be crushed."

The men complied quickly, while Luna merely stood a foot or two behind and two his left. With a deep breath, Harry centered himself in the Force. Magic could levitate large objects with relatively little energy expenditure, but it would be slow going using set spells. So Harry used the Force.

Stones began to fly away from the top. Large or small, they flew into the air on either side far enough to clear the plowed area. Soon, more stones joined them, accompanied by a rain of dirt and gravel. Whenever he came to a truly large stone, he felt Luna use the Force to take the large stone so that Harry could work quickly on the greater pile. It was not easy by any means, moving tons of stone and dirt, but after almost twenty minutes, the entrance to the cave was at least exposed.

Once Harry dropped his arms, Himilco ran into the cave, followed moments later by the other men. Bra'tac stood beside him. "You display great power, Ha'ri Potter. What are you going to do with such strength?"

He met the older man's gaze. "I'm going to kill your gods."

Bra'tac dipped his chin. "It is a hard thing to kill a god. You will need help."

"Yes. Yes, I will."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Hermione fought back tears as she entered the Byrsa caves for the first time that afternoon. She and Luna were never allowed before because they were outsiders. Now, however, the Matrona and all the elders that would have prevented them were dead. She looked intently for anyone over thirty, but the oldest people left alive appeared to be in their mid-twenties, if even that.

When she and the others found where Apophis and his forces had casually thrown the bodies of those they killed, all restraint had left and Hermione wept openly as she walked by piles of bodies so high not even the heavy snow could hide them all. Harry walked beside her, holding her hand as he too surveyed the mute, frozen evidence of genocide.

"I wonder if this is what Luna saw for our future, years ago," Harry speculated aloud. "Piles of bodies and blood."

"I think she was talking about if we stayed on Earth."

"Maybe. But in a real sense, this happened because of us."

Hermione sobbed at the thought; Harry put an arm around her shoulder. "We're not responsible for this," he said gently. "It may have happened because of us, but we're not responsible. Only Apophis can be blamed for this. And we're going to make sure it doesn't happen again, aren't we?"

Hermione nodded, despite her tears. "I can use rune craft even without a wand," she said. "I'm going to ward that gate until any Goa'uld stepping through won't live to regret it!"

"I know you will. In the meantime, I'll use the _Gemino_ charm on our food supplies to stretch it out as much as possible, and maybe form hunting teams. Himilco said there were several large herbivores in the forests around here we can hunt for food. We won't let anyone else here die. We weren't responsible for this slaughter, but we will be responsible for their recovery."

Hermione could only nod as she stared at the piles of frozen bodies, many of whom stared back with frozen expressions of horror and pain.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The next evening, the few thousand survivors of the Byrsa apocalypse gathered in the trampled snow and stared at the mounds of bodies. They moved as if in a dream, faces still frozen in shock or despair. They eyed the three Jaffa warily; they eyed Hermione and Luna in open horror. But they came when called because with all their winter food stores destroyed, the newcomers were their only hope for survival.

Harry picked out Himilco, who hovered protectively around his still gaunt wife, and stepped toward him. "Do your people have any funeral rites? Prayers or rituals?"

"We light pyres so that the souls of dead may be lifted to Kheb," the man said. "As the flames rise, so to do their souls. But now…there are too many. Even their souls will be lost."

Harry nodded, hoping for such an answer. "It was Apophis that did this to your people, Himilco. He is no god to you or your people. I will make sure your people's souls find their place on Kheb."

He left the man and rejoined his family. "What'd he say?" Hermione asked.

"Fire," Harry said. "Step back."

Hermione and Luna both nodded and backed away as Harry raised both hands. Overhead, the small, twin moons of Cartago shone down on the snow, casting it in shades of deep, cold blue. That blue turned red as a pillar of fire exploded into the air. All those watching reared away in shock as the fire took the form of a great winged beast that roared into the night, before plunging down into the bodies.

The fire raged in a great cyclone just feet from where Harry stood, hands raised, as he fought with every ounce of his power to keep the Fiendfyre under control. It was the magical nuclear option—able to burn anything. And if it escaped his control even a little, it could immolate the entire continent.

But as the demonic flame raged and surged against his control, he knew it would not win its freedom. He pushed more and more magic into controlling it, and then with a last surge, he extinguished it entirely.

When the flame died at last, it revealed a wide, open field where Apophis had ruthlessly thrown the bodies of thousands of Byrsa. Now, the land stood empty and blackened.

Despite his personal power, Harry couldn't help but feel exhausted from the effort. Still, he turned and faced the silent, stunned Byrsa. With a simple _Sonorous_ charm, his voice boomed across the field. "Fire burns and destroys, but purifies as well. Per your rites, this fire has ensured the souls of those you lost will walk on Kheb. And by this fire, I swear to you now that never will the Goa'uld do this to you again. I am Harry Potter, and I swear to defend you and your world. More than that—I will teach you and your people to defend yourselves as well. This is a dark time for you, but just as the fire lifted the souls of your families to Kheb, it has purified your people. You will be stronger because of this, and you will prevail."

Harry was expecting many things, but having the Byrsa kneel down in front of him as a people was not one of them. He stared in dismay, until he saw a small pocket to the side that did not. Catherine Langford, the Jacksons, and Ernest Littlefield were staring at him with expressions of utter shock.

However, next to them, Bra'tac nodded in satisfaction before turning to walk back to the barracks.


	13. New Gods

A/N: Chap 12 responses are in my forum as normal. Also, there is an additional AN at the end of the chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: New Gods**

"What does Akai'kheb mean?" Catherine Langford asked Hermione.

The two were in the Byrsa caves, helping the survivors take an inventory of what little they had left. This mainly consisted of stacking furs, or coarsely woven blankets, assembling harvesting tools or seed.

The cave system was much larger than Hermione would have guessed, but then again it would have to be to house so many Byrsa. But now most of the dwelling spaces were empty, and those Byrsa that remained faced starvation. They had very little seed left for their staple crops, and Hermione had been trying to come up with a solution for that problem. Between what they brought from Earth, Bra'tac's emergency stores, and Harry's duplicating magic, she believed they would make it through to spring. But that would not do them any good if they had no seed to plant new crops.

Hermione paused in her work and straightened to stretch her back. "Well, in Goa'uld I think Kheb is like heaven. Ak is bridge. I believe the ai' is a prepositional phrase, similar to the English word 'to' or maybe 'unto'. So, either a Bridge to Heaven, or Unto Heaven, since Goa'uld doesn't really have a vernacular. It's very formal and stilted, sometimes."

"From what I've learned, I can see that. Still, there's an interesting similarity between the word Kheb, and the Egyptian god of the Earth. The more of their language I learn, the more I can see its Egyptian roots. In fact, it feels more like an Egyptian dialect than anything else."

Hermione could only nod—her mind however dwelled on what the Byrsa were now calling Harry; the Akai'Kheb, the Bridge Unto Heaven. The Byrsa looked at Harry not as a man, but as something akin to a god himself, and unfortunately that same level of awe had transferred itself to Hermione and Luna. It was disconcerting, more so that Harry didn't seem to care like she thought he should. Sticking to the safer discourse, she said, "It may not be a dialect. The Goa'uld live for thousands of years. They may speak the original language of the Nile valley."

The two women looked up as Luna and Claire Jackson arrived. Daniel rode in a Byrsa blanket-sling on Claire's hip, bundled in furs against the cold outside the cave, though inside was warmer. "There you are," Luna said. "Claire had an idea about the Byrsa seed stocks."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"I spoke to some of the women and the primary crops are cereals and a type of legume that seems vaguely like a soy bean," Claire said. "But from what I understand, I think the crops are all cleistogamous."

Hermione frowned. "I like to think of myself as passing smart, but I must confess I have no idea what that means, other than its Latinate root means closed marriage."

Catherine laughed. "That's because you've never studied anthropology and early farming. It means the crops are all self-pollinating."

"How does help us?" Hermione asked.

"Green houses," Luna said with a brilliant smile. "We can build greenhouses to do winter crops to get enough seed to ensure food next spring. There's enough silica around here for Harry to melt some glass for us, and if we feed some magic into it we could accelerate the growth of each crop."

Claire sighed a little before she let a wiggling Daniel down to explore the cave. There were a few other Byrsa children running about, and he joined them without hesitation, yapping away in American English while they talked right back in Goa'uld, neither side concerned over the lack of understanding. "So, do you guys realize the Byrsa think you're gods?"

Luna shrugged. "It is easy to see why. They can't understand our abilities."

Claire laughed, but the sound verged on the hysterical. " _I_ can't understand your abilities. That fire Harry created last night…it made my hair stand on end. And he flew around in New York like a comic book hero."

Luna shrugged, but Hermione frowned as she considered it. "Claire, we've only been on Cartago for four days. How are you with the language?"

The archaeologist shrugged as she bent over to help with the chore of sorting the belongings of the deceased. "Alright, I guess. I've been speaking mainly with Himilco's wife Dessa. Once I started picking out Archaic Egyptian terms from their dialect, I caught on pretty quickly."

"But you're speaking to her in Goa'uld. You've learned enough, just in three days, to have conversations."

"Claire's being modest," Catherine said with a proud smile. "She is natural polyglot. She learned to speak a Guatemalan language called Kaqchikel in a week while she was with her father on an expedition."

"Did you ever take courses on learning language?" Hermione asked.

"No, just the languages themselves," Claire said with a humble shrug.

"That's how our magic is," Hermione explained. "It is something, on our version of Earth, we were born with. We went to a school to learn how best to harness it, but the magic itself was something we were born with."

"And Harry?" Catherine asked.

"Harry is…well, oaky. Harry _is_ special," Luna said with a smile. "I suppose if you really wanted to run with the divinity aspect, he'd be ideal. After all, he died, and forty-three days later returned to life as an instrument of judgment against the forces of darkness."

Hermione nodded. "And he was born under a prophecy. From our Divinations Professor, no less. And really, Luna, he died more than just the first time. He suffered a catastrophic death of personality when he and that Sith persona of his fought, and then he was brain dead for almost two weeks after we walked into the Bane of Ra trap Ramirez set."

"Oh, this sounds like a fascinating story," Claire said.

The women talked while the children played around them. They spoke English, not realizing that while Claire Jackson had a gift of tongues, Dessa, wife of Himilco, had learned as much English as Claire had learned Goa'uld. She did not understand everything she heard, but she understood enough to know that the Akai'kheb himself had died and walked in the gardens of Kheb before returning to lead the Byrsa through the fires of hardship to freedom and to deliver the souls of their dead to the heavens.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The Byrsa were unaccustomed to large construction projects, not through lack of skill, but because any such structures they tried to build would be torn down by Apophis. Still, they did have skilled carpenters capable of surprisingly good work, even if it had previously been on a small scale. The techniques and tools were primitive, but the skill was real regardless. And in the persons of Ernest Littlefield and Melburn Jackson, they had two talented engineers.

In a matter of days, after Harry cleared the ground of snow, the Byrsa began building two long, narrow greenhouses. Harry used a combination of the Force and Magic to fashion glass sheets which he, Hermione and Luna levitated into place. The Byrsa simply accepted these small miracles as an everyday matter, and in just a week they had two long greenhouses, each filled with long, wooden troughs of soil kept in place with a base of fired clay.

The Byrsa took what little seed they had and planted it in the first four troughs. What happened next, however, was private.

"I don't understand," Catherine said as Luna closed the greenhouse off that very night.

"Fertility magic," Luna told her with a gleam in her eyes. "It is the most ancient magic we know, and it is not performed with wands. At least, not those types of wands."

Claire, who had stayed with them through much of the project, blushed. "Oh, how interesting! So, does it actually work?"

"You'll see," Luna said.

"Do you…need another volunteer?"

Luna laughed. "I don't think so. And I'm not sure you would want to carry Harry's child, since you _would_ get pregnant. The magic would ensure it."

"What about you?"

Luna's smile turned wistful. "I can't have children. Neither Hermione or I can."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Claire said.

Luna, though, shrugged. "It was a choice we made. At the time, the idea of immortality seemed too enticing to turn down. Now that I'm functionally immortal, though, I look at Daniel and wonder if it was worth it. I suppose I'll see soon enough as he grows."

With that, Luna left the two archaeologists to find Harry and Hermione to begin the purification rituals. As she left, Claire blinked and looked at her old professor. "Did…did she just say she was immortal?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The Byrsa had tears in their eyes as they harvested wholly grown stalks of wheat and the tago beans which were such a staple of their diet after only one week from when they were planted. They immediately replanted all that they harvested, so that where their first planting took only a quarter of the greenhouse, the second filled the first greenhouse completely.

That night, Harry, Luna and Hermione performed another fertility ritual with great abandon and a few moans. Claire Jackson could not help but sneak out of the barracks, secure in the knowledge that Daniel was safe with a soundly snoring Melburn. She donned fur coats and the heavy fur-lined moccasins that the natives wore, and made her way through the trails of cleared snow until she reached the greenhouses.

She could see silhouettes moving within in a sensuous, beautiful dance of bodies. But what surprised her were the number of Byrsa watching from the tree line. Among them, she spotted the young sister of Himilco, the girl Tannin. Tannin looked back at her and nodded. "The gods are blessing the crops again," she whispered. She did not sound awed so much as happy.

Claire wanted to correct Tannin's assumption that they were gods, until she heard a particularly loud moan from within the greenhouse, followed by a sudden burst of bright, happy green light that seemed to fill the entire structure.

A week later, they harvested enough to fill both greenhouses, and after that began storing seeds for the spring harvest.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Ernest Littlefield woke every morning, half-convinced he was still on that desolate, abandoned world and just dreaming. The first week with Catherine was awkward—twenty three years apart was enough to hamper any relationship, but when one of those parties spent twenty year years stranded on an alien planet, the strain seemed incomprehensible.

Except that Catherine tried so _hard_. His memories of her were of an intelligent, capable woman of her times. Women of class did not work in factories in the war, they served at home as the manager of the household. When he asked her to marry him, it was with the expectation that she would be the mother of his children and would stay home while he worked.

But twenty-three years later, he discovered to his chagrin that she was better educated than he was, with doctorates not just in archaeology, but also in architecture and civic engineering. She knew things due to the advances of science that he'd never even dreamed possible, and in the end he felt diminished in comparison to how high she had risen.

Another man would have lashed out. Her own father would have insulted and patronized her until she fled—that's how Paul Langford dealt with anyone who he felt threatened by. But then Ernest hadn't survived twenty-three years on an alien world by running from his fears. And when he was able to look past them, what he saw was a woman who loved him so much, she spent almost a lifetime in mourning. And when presented with the opportunity to save him, she sacrificed literally her entire world without hesitation to do so.

Her intellect might have humbled him, but her dedication left him in awe.

And so Ernest Littelfield, eight days after arriving on his second alien world, took Catherine's hand in his and kissed her knuckles like the very first time he met her. "Thank you for saving me," he told her simply. With those five words, he said to her all she needed to know.

Since then, he woke as if from a dream, and every morning Catherine was there by his side, snuggled against him under the blankets that warded off the bitter cold of a Cartago winter.

He learned the story of his saviors gradually during that time, while at the same time trying to adjust to the new reality he found himself in. He learned that the Allies won the war; that the Manhattan project which Langford stole him from bore a terrible fruit which changed the whole world, and that Harry, Hermione and Luna Potter were witches from some strange, alternate dimension made possible through some quirk of the Stargate which no one could quite understand.

 _Witches._

With all the brilliance of the races he'd learned about during his solitary life on the alien planet, he'd come to accept there were many things he could never explain. But the existence of magic was one he'd never entertained. That is, until he saw the fire Harry Potter used to sanitize the bodies of the slain Byrsa. With Catherine crushing into him, he could not help but feel a primordial terror when the fire itself roared as if alive. Fire did not behave the way Potter's fire did—it was something supernatural and terrible, and it made Ernest fear his savior.

Everything that followed caused the man more and more concern. The "fertility" rituals were in their own way as astonishing as the fire, but when Potter, his two women, and the artisans of the Byrsa built a near regulation-sized gymnasium in ten days despite the suffocating snow and freezing weather, Ernest had no choice but to accept that Potter and his family were more than mere human.

He wasn't sure if they were gods, like the natives seemed to believe, but he knew they were far more than mere human.

He and Melburn Jackson, one of his defacto wife's pupils who also abandoned everything for this odd adventure, helped Potter draw up a wood frame structure using Melburn's knowledge of Norse wood-building techniques. But beyond that, the two men had little to do but watch in awe as Harry magically cleared land and, using instructions for Roman-style cement from Melburn, created a solid concrete foundation.

The Byrsa workman concentrated on making the thousands of wooden tiles for the roof, and did so with oddly exuberant smiles.

"Why wouldn't the Byrsa worship them?" Claire Jackson, Melburn's adorable wife, said with a distant smile one evening as the two couples gathered over a meal in their room within the oddly anachronistic Goa'uld barracks. "The Potters are their gods, now. They've brought fertility, and Harry has acted the part of a chthonic deity by delivering the souls of their departed to their heaven. The magic he performs is to them merely evidence of his divine power. So if he or his wives ask for something, it is a request from their gods, and they will honor that request without hesitation—joy, even."

Watching how Harry levitated intact tree trunks, and then whittled them into usable lumber with that astonishing magic, Ernest could easily see why the man was viewed as a god. While Luna and Hermione were without their wands, they could still levitate objects hundreds of times their weight. They were also working hard on learning to use their own magic without their wands.

In just days, they raised a building almost as large as a classical gymnasium. It was sheltered from the snow by a tall, sharply sloped roof covered in beautifully rendered wooden shingles, all of which were made by hand by the Byrsa artisans. The installation of the tiles alone should have taken several days in the brutal Cartago winter, but Harry made astonishingly short work of it.

The floor of the interior was made with padded cork from the bark of the trees used in the construction. The smell of resin and sap should have been overpowering, but again Harry used his magic to somehow age and condition the wood. And the moment it was done, Harry challenged Bra'tac, Teal'c and An'hur to a fighting match.

Ernest joined many of the other men in the building to watch as Harry sparred against the Jaffa. He was, to a man, smaller than the Jaffa. And yet he moved with preternatural speed, grace and strength. He flipped about like a circus acrobat, only his every move put the large, muscular warriors on the floor.

Until the old, bearded man finally twisted his hip and ankle as Harry grappled with him, and threw the 'god' down. Rather than be upset, Harry rolled easily to his feet grinning like a wolf. "Nicely done," he said. He straightened and said, "Show me?"

He charged again, but slower, and this time Bra'tac showed him the move slower. Harry nodded before offering his hand. Bra'tac took the smaller man's wrist in a Jaffa shake. "Thank you for your instruction, Master Bra'tac."

"And you for yours," Bra'tac said with a tight grin. "It has been many decades since anyone has thrown me."

"Not so, Master Bra'tac," Teal'c noted from the side opposite the Byrsa men.

"I let you win," came the sharp response. This raised a laugh among many there.

"And the style is called Mastaba?" Harry asked.

"Indeed," Bra'tac said. "It was first taught to the Jaffa by Imhotep, who insisted all his warriors learn it. In time, their success on the battlefield led many other Jaffa to learn it as well. It and its variants are the martial art of the Jaffa Nation."

Harry nodded before turning to look at several of the Byrsa men gathered in the gym. "Are you willing to teach it to non-Jaffa?"

Bra'tac frowned, but only for a moment. "It is not the tradition, but there has never been any law forbidding it. If they can learn, we can teach. But why?"

Harry looked back to Bra'tac. "You are human, Bra'tac. Changed by the Goa'uld to serve as incubators, yes, but still human. And these people have suffered as much from the slavery of the Goa'uld as you. If the Goa'uld are to be destroyed, it must be at the hands not just of the Jaffa, but of all humans together."

Harry turned to Himilco, who by default had assumed a mantle of leadership for the shattered remnants of his people. "Himilco, if you had means, and Apophis came again to your world, would you fight to protect your families?"

"Yes, Akai'kheb," the Byrsa said with a fervent bow.

Ernest, watching the exchange, noticed only the briefest hesitation on Potter's part before he looked back to Bra'tac. "Master Bra'tac, what you see before you are the seeds of rebellion. This is the path to victory and freedom for all. Together we will train them to fight."

He turned to the Byrsa. "I aim to teach the Byrsa to defend themselves, and when the time comes, to defend other peoples so that none have to suffer as you have. It will be difficult, but very little of worth in life is not difficult. It's not enough for me to protect you—to truly be free, you must protect yourselves. Listen to these Jaffa, and they will make you mighty!"

The Byrsa men eagerly stood, and what could only be described as Basic Training began. Harry left them and walked toward where Ernest stood alone. "Doctor Littlefield," Potter said with a polite nod. "Have you ever taught school?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

On the fourth week of their stay on Cartago, as Daniel ran about with the other Byrsa toddlers, yammering away in Goa'uld almost indistinguishable from the others, Claire Jackson learned how to make Byrsa beer.

While the Byrsa themselves were matriarchal and matrilineal, the society itself was highly segregated regarding what roles women and men played. Only men were allowed to handle the scythes or flails, while women gathered and prepared the harvests for use, and did the cooking. The most sacred of the women's roles, though, was the making of _heqet_.

Given her studies, Claire found this fascinating because she knew the ancient Egyptians drank fundamentally the same thing for centuries—a thick, scummy beer laden with calories and other essential nutrients. It was also the most efficient way of storing food, since the Byrsa, like their ancestors on Earth, drank the beer not strictly as a drink, but as a staple of their diet. The Byrsa used a barley-like grain and an emmer substitute mixed with yeast and heated before being poured into the vats for fermentation.

Not all of the women with her that day were Byrsa, though. At least four of those learning the brewing process wore manufactured clothing, even if it was starting to show wear from their long stay. Two of them appeared to be sisters; the taller of the two had brown hair, while the shorter one's hair was slightly lighter in shade, approaching but not quite blonde. Each had a Mediterranean tone to their skin and features not so very different than the Byrsa.

The Goa'uld they spoke was accented, but the fact they were from a different world and arrived as refugees was proof of how universal the Goa'uld language was.

As they finished one vat, Claire noticed that the two sisters were watching her intently, looking away quickly any time she tried to return their gaze. In still heavily accented Goa'uld, she finally said, "Can I help you?"

The two girls looked around at the other women, who pointedly avoided their eyes. The older said, "If it pleases you, may we speak in private?"

Claire looked at Dessa, who like her husband had assumed some leadership just because of the lack of anyone else to do it among her people. "We are done for now, Cla'air," she said, doing her best to pronounce Claire's name in Goa'uld.

Claire led the two young women—both appeared to be in their mid to late teens—from the cave and out into the day. Though the temperature never rose above freezing, after almost a month she'd grown accustomed to the cold enough that she rather enjoyed the brief, sunny days between storms.

"Now, let me see if I can remember," Claire said to the younger women. "You are Lira, and you are Loris?"

The older said, "I am Lira."

"Well, Lira, how can I help you?"

The two sisters shared a glance before Lira spoke. "It is said that you have the ear of the Akai'kheb. We have seen you speak to him, and to his women, and are not brought low."

Claire frowned. "I don't think Ha…the Akai'kheb would strike anyone low just for speaking to him. But yes, we do speak on occasion. He's asked me to help teach in the school when it is done."

The two girls nodded, as if this confirmed their suspicions. "Cla'air, we beg of you, can you please ask the Akai'kheb when we can go home?"

Claire stuttered, genuinely surprised. "Why haven't you asked Harry? Or Luna and Hermione?"

It was Loris the younger who answered. "We saw how _Anu_ Hermione cast the lightnings at the Byrsa who displeased her. We have seen _Anu_ Luna lifting whole trees with her power. And the fires of the Akai'kheb…we are not worthy. Please, will you ask him?"

"Are there others who feel the same way?"

Lira wiped her eyes and nodded. "Not all can go back, but some of us can."

"Then let's go talk to them," Clair said. "Harry told us that we were not prisoners here. I think he means it for everyone."

* * *

A/N: I guess this chapter is a good time to let everyone know that there is a great deal of world-building in this fic. Not surprising, really. Stars Alone encompasses a great deal of time and at times will employ different perspectives and points of view.

There were three potential routes to take with this sequel. One started as a cross with nBSG. One was actually a Mass Effect cross. Both had what I like to think were good starts, but the nBSG was just consistently heart-breaking and I couldn't see a good way to finish it that didn't end in everyone calling for my head. The Mass Effect just didn't ring true. The next chapter is what compelled me to continue this version. Not so much the action and adventure, as just the sheer joy of exploring different worlds and cultures that are made possibly by the endless possibilities Stargate created. It was that, as much as anything, that made me want to continue H/Hr/L's story into the SG universe.

Now that I have a functional computer, hopefully posts will continue without too much further interruption.

Thanks for reading.


	14. Definitions of Evil

A/N: Chapter 13 review responses are in my forums as normal. Now, if you will, imagine a 1915 United States that still went through its revolution, but instead of having been founded by the British Empire, was founded by the ancient Persian Empire.

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Definitions of Evil**

Hermione felt a thrill of fear when she stepped through the gate onto an unknown world for the first time by herself. Well, without Luna and Harry, at any rate. Her two companions, Lira and Loris Lomet, stood on either side of her. The girls themselves kept casting nervous looks at her; according to Claire the girls were terrified of her.

She felt again that terrible, disorienting _dislocation_ in the Force—a violent jerk on all of her senses and her magic, but this time she kept better control as she stumbled a little onto a ramp leading to yet another world.

The smell hit her first—of heavy smoke, exhaust and the smell of burning coal. She blinked her eyes against bitter cold and shivered as she made out a large, cobblestoned, circular area surrounded on all sides by non-descript brick walls rising at least five or more floors. The walls looked weathered and stained. There were narrow shuttered windows every two to three feet of every floor all around the gate— _balistraria_ , if she remembered her medieval architecture. She looked around, and only after turning a hundred and ninety degrees did she see the exit from the circular area—a vaulted exit tunnel blocked by a heavy metal portcullis that looked positively medieval. An enemy emerging from the gate would be hard pressed to withstand a defensive barrage. Even arrows in such numbers could be withering.

Blanketing all was a slow drift of soft snow that melted immediately on contact both with her and the warmer stones below. Perhaps a first snow of a new winter?

"We need to wait her for a moment, _Anu_ ," Lira, the older of the two sisters, said in the same respectful tone they'd used with her and Luna. The two were too terrified to speak directly to Harry. "The Protectorate wants to make sure nothing else comes through the gate. As soon as it shuts off, agents will come out."

Sure enough, as soon as the gate deactivated a smaller door on the side near the portcullis opened and three relatively short men stepped out. All three were broad shouldered, with the same dark hair, dark eyes and dusky skin as the sisters at Hermione's side. All three wore light gray uniforms that reminded Hermione of pictures of her great grandfather's uniform during the Great War, even down to the holsters that held large, bulky-looking pistols.

As they grew closer, the second of the three men missed a step before erupting in a huge smile and a shout. "Lira!"

All thought of Hermione slipped from the girl's mind as she squealed. "Rogen!" She rushed across the floor to the consternation of the two other uniformed men.

"Is that standard procedure?" Hermione asked Loris, perhaps too loudly, since it was the first of the remaining uniforms who answered.

Unlike the other two, he appeared to be a man in his early forties—straight-backed and thin not from a lack of food, but from a healthy diet and exercise. He had white frost at his temples and speckles of white throughout his otherwise dark hair, while shrewd brown eyes studied her intently.

"It is not procedure. I'm Protector First Class Aldal Arda. Given the confirmation of Lira Lomet, may I presume that you are Loris Lomet and Nin Damkia?"

Hermione looked to Loris, who flushed with a sudden sense of loss. "No Protector, I'm sorry. I am Loris, but Nin…the Goa'uld got us all, sir. They raided Falber. They took Nin and she never came back, and they would have killed us too except for my companion. This is _Anu_ Hermione Potter. She and her kin saved all of us, and helped those that didn't want to fight come home."

Hermione could not decide how to classify Loris's Goa'uld accent, since it was hard to place accents in newly learned languages. Then she noticed how Arda's eyes narrowed at the word Loris used to announce her.

" _Anu_ , you say?" the man said. "You throw heresy around quite easily, Loris Lomet. Perhaps you have been off planet too many times."

"Don't you dare say that!" Lira said, forgetting her paramour for the moment. " _Anu_ Hermione is heavenly! She's married to a living, breathing god! He defeated Apophis himself! He carried the souls of the dead to Kheb, and even Jaffa follow him. It was she and her kin alone that allowed us to escape!"

So _Anu_ evidently meant heavenly? Hermione was pants at languages other than Latin or Greek, or the occasional ancient languages she studied seeking a means to defeat Voldemort years ago. But she did have a passing interest in mythology.

"I'm sorry," she said politely. "I never heard the name of your world."

"Our world is called Erid," Arda said curtly.

Erid. _Erid. Eridu._ The Summarian word for Home. "I see, thank you," she said. "My name is Hermione Potter, from a world you might call _Ersetu_ , or _Ki_. In our tongue it is called Earth."

Now the man's eyes widened as if slapped. "Impossible."

"You step through a ring that carries you to worlds across the cosmos," Hermione pointed out. "Are you so quick to say what is possible and what is not? Regardless, I came to see these victims of the Goa'uld home safe, and perhaps establish a relationship with your world. I do not come to do harm to anyone or to cause you trouble."

"Protector, my father will want to meet the person who saved our lives," Lira said. She'd shifted her tone to one of respect and even a little fear. "Kisher Lomet always takes his obligations seriously, and I tell you for sure that we would be dead or worse if not for _Anu_ Hermione and her kin. On my word before Anshur!"

The Protector looked from Hermione to the two sisters before clucking his tongue. "Very well. Hermione Potter, do you swear before Anshur, High God and Prince of Heaven, to do no harm to the people of Erid so long as you remain?"

"I do," she said.

"Do you carry any weapons?"

"Yes," she said, hoping to forestall his obvious distrust. She removed her lightsaber and lit it, causing the three uniformed men to step back in alarm.

"This is a sword," she said. "It is not a long-distance weapon, and is intended primarily for defense. It is, however, lethal to an unskilled user. For this reason I will not surrender it. I will not be responsible for an inept person accidently cutting their head off. However, unless attacked I will also swear not to activate this blade again." So saying, she turned it off and hung it from the conjured belt of her conjured wrap.

The protector pursed his lips as he studied first Hermione, and then the Lomet sisters. "Very well. _Etlu_ Rogen, you and Tashik are to remain on watch duty. I should not have to remind you of your assignments, correct?"

Rogen separated from Lira an inch and stiffened, but did not make any type of salute. "Yes, sir."

The Protector then turned to Hermione. "Ladies, it shall be my pleasure to escort you to Kisher Lomet."

"Thank you, Protector," Hermione said with what she hoped was a gracious nod.

The man nodded in return and then motioned for them to walk with him while the other two uniformed men returned to the building. Walking through the vaulted passage made Hermione appreciate just how thick the structure was that surrounded the gate. She counted, beyond the portcullis, five more raised metal doors, easily five inches thick each, positioned at various points along their walk through a building that was easily twenty meters thick. And through every step, she could see the suggestion of eyes and silhouettes through the murder holes that lined the tunnel, on either side and above.

"This is an impressive fortification, Protector," Hermione said.

With a grim nod, he agreed. "It was built after the last great Reaping, four hundred years ago, by the great Serrum Rabu Bit Agu. It was he who fought off the _Mulla Xul_ called Ra."

Hermione had to make a great deal of guesses from context on the words he was using. "Did the Reapings happen often?"

"Every hundred years," Arda said. "Until Serrum built the great Ekur, the Mountain House. Over the centuries, we've added to its fortifications when the High Council decided to allow limited trade through the Chappa'ai."

They finally stepped out of the great fort, and Hermione blinked as she found herself in another time. With the Byrsa, it felt like a small movie set, and in the back of her mind she could imagine that just beyond the forest was a shopping mall and motorway. But this…this was no movie set.

A wide boulevard of huge stone paving formed a plaza as large as Saint Peter's Square, with extravagant fountains in the very center. Beyond, she saw row upon row of two and three-story houses almost like brownstones lining a wide boulevard. On the boulevard she saw a strange mixture of modern and ancient. What looked like a steam-driven car rolled past a carriage drawn by an alien, bull-like beast of burden with dull blue fur, while in the distance she could see what looked like a trolley moving up a hill between more buildings. In the far distance, she saw a handful of taller buildings—circular towers topped with golden domes, only the towers were as wide as the skyscrapers back home.

Most amazing to Hermione, though, were the zeppelins—real zeppelins like right out of a war movie.

"It is impressive, is it not?" Aldal asked. "For ten times three hundred years, our people have been beaten down by the evil gods. But because of one king's vision, we are now free to grow as a people."

"It is impressive," Hermione said. She then sneezed. "And somewhat polluted. Is that coal you burn?"

He shrugged. "It is good for power. Come, a trolley is nearby."

The people of the city looked to be of a similar racial stock as her immediate hosts—Middle Eastern, only far removed from that climate. Their skin tones ranged from a dark Mediterranean to a pale, olive tone, but their hair was almost universally black or brown of various shades. She had no doubt Luna's hair and eye color would stand out.

As it was, her own porcelain complexion stood out enough for people to glance at her as they walked by on the street. Even the fashions were amazingly detailed. Men wore an over-garment that reminded Hermione of an Indian _Sherwani_ over slacks of various colors, some vibrantly bright. The women dressed in what she could only describe as _churidars_ and _kameez_. And yet, they did not really have the ethnic look of Indians, but of Greeks or perhaps Persians. Most also wore coats to ward off the chill and politely fought not to look at Hermione's Byrsa dress, which in comparison was positively risqué.

They walked until they came to a large sign in a completely unfamiliar alphabet. From the crowd, she gathered they were waiting for a trolley.

"I apologize, I just realized you must be cold," Protector Arda said.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," Hermione said. In fact, she still carried Harry's warming charm, which tended to last hours longer than her own.

Nearby, a woman said in the same heavily accented Goa'uld, "Dear, you may borrow my coat if you wish."

Hermione smiled at the unsolicited gesture. "Thank you, that is very kind. But I'm…"

She paused when Loris touched her elbow and whispered, "It's considered…unseemly for a woman to bear her shoulders."

Hermione's well-honed sense of feminism warred briefly with her desire not to disrupt these people. Glancing around, she noticed the stares and finally smiled. "That is very kind of you, thank you. I'm a new visitor to your world, and I did not expect the cold."

The older woman wore a heavy woolen scarf over her head with several knitted sweaters underneath a coat, which she shrugged out of and handed to Hermione. Hermione took it with another smile and slipped it on—it was large on her, but at least suited the local's sense of modesty. "Thank you again."

"It was my pleasure, child."

After her shoulders were covered, she noticed Arda appeared to relax somewhat. She turned to Loris, and her sister Lira, and said, "Are there any more social taboos I should be aware of?"

"I know the traders on Farber shake hands. That's okay for men, but never for women. No man should touch you, and you shouldn't touch any man, except for your husband or, if unmarried, a father," Loris said.

"Oh, that's so old fashioned!" Lira said. "Rogen and I hug!"

"You're promised," Loris pointed out. "That's as good as married."

"The only time I need to touch a man is to defend myself," Hermione said, though she found the customs old-fashioned at the least. "Let me guess, woman are not allowed to hold any public offices, attend higher education or vote in public forums?"

Arda cleared his throat, but Lira glared at him. "We can vote! Well, at least can now. The suffrage movement won the public vote when I was fourteen. Not many do, though."

So within just the last few years. That alone told Hermione a lot—that their society was trying to move beyond custom and tradition, but it was going to be a long, hard fight. "Thank you, that helps."

"Things are different on your world?" Loris asked.

"In parts," Hermione said. Conscious of Arda and the other people listening, she said, "Customs and traditions vary in different places. A good traveler does his or her best to be aware of those traditions. Whether I agree or not with your world's traditions, I will do my best to be respectful of them while I am a guest here."

Despite her experience, Hermione did not like politics. That did not mean she wasn't good at it. It was impossible not to learn some diplomacy as the spouse of a former Chief Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, or the head of the largest, most profitable company in history.

The trolley arrived—it could have come right out of early 20th century London or San Francisco, except for the foreign alphabet and numbering system. At Arda's gesture, she joined the other people as they climbed on, but only after allowing passengers to disembark. On board, Hermione noticed that not a single woman took a seat, but rather stood around the sitting men. Arda, perhaps because of his task, remained standing as well.

For all the social issues, it was interesting to see the various architectures of the city as they moved toward the more populated center. Evidently the gate fortification was on the edge of the city proper, which was called Damiq.

Further in, Hermione noticed the height of buildings increased, going from an average of two stories to seven or eight. She wondered if they had elevators or not. She also saw beggars on almost every corner—clad sometimes only in blankets to ward off the cold air and the now heavily falling snow.

Eventually they passed out of what looked like a commercial area and into a broad manufacturing area. Large, square buildings pumped huge volumes of black smoke into the air, while framing each building were hundreds of kilometers of rail lines, many with large steam locomotives. However, she also spotted what could only be a diesel locomotive thrumming near one of the larger factories. The trolley stopped with a clank. "That's our father's factory," Loris said quietly, nodding to the very building Hermione saw with the diesel.

"What does your father make?" Hermione asked.

"Lomet Corporation makes autocarriages and agricultural equipment," Loris said, as if speaking by rote. "We also have contracts with the Protectorate and the Temple. We don't talk about that, though."

"Of course."

Hermione noticed that many of the men on the tram were making their way to the factory. Personal autocarriages, as they described them, appeared to be a rarity. As they grew closer, Hermione debated using a bubblehead charm because of how heavily polluted the air was. Given the others didn't even seem to notice, though, she suspected it would just bring more attention to her.

Most of the workers went toward a large, wide entrance that opened directly into the crowded, loud production floor of the factory. Arda, however, escorted Hermione and the Lomet sisters to another entrance, this one with glass and chrome doors set under a bas-relief figure of a rather generic god covered in gold leaf. It was through these doors they walked. The room was elegantly appointed, with dark floor tiling and two lines of Doric-style columns in white marble. Directly facing them rose a large, imposing desk behind which sat an older man in what Hermione could only describe as a bellhop suit.

The moment he saw the two girls, he picked up the heavy receiver of a telephone and said, "Tell Mar Lomet his daughters have returned!"

With that, he stood and descended from the elevated desk to rush to the Lomet sisters, where he then bowed his head with a happy smile. True to Loris's warning, he made no effort to touch them. "Oh, Anshur-be-praised, it is so good to see you safe!" the receptionist said. "But…where is dear Nin?"

"She died, Subat," Loris said sadly. "The Goa'uld took us from Farber with many other women, and when they took her from us, she never returned."

Moments later a wide-bodied man with an extravagant handle-bar mustache and thick black beard rushed through a side door. He wore black slacks half-covered by his bejeweled and gold-lined overcoat that barely contained his girth. He wore a simple, cylindrical cap that reminded Hermione of a fez that must have been pinned to his hair, since it did not move despite his momentum.

Unlike the other men, he swept Lira and Loris up into a hug, one in each arm. "But…but where is your cousin?" he asked, noticing Hermione was not the aforementioned Nin.

"She is gone, _Abum,"_ Loris said. For the first time since they arrived, Hermione heard true pain in the young woman's voice. "The Goa'uld took her and killed her. They would have killed us but for _Anu_ Hermione here, who saved us."

" _Anu,_ child?" Kisher Lomet had a deep voice that wrapped around the Goa'uld language like a lover's hand. He looked up at Hermione and she saw immediately a spark of interest. "You are the heavenly creature who saved my children?"

"Along with my sister and my husband, yes," she said.

She didn't mean to stress the word _husband_ , but she wanted to dismantle the light of interest in the man's eyes. It worked; he seemed that honorable, at least.

"Remarkable! Come, you must tell me everything over food and wine!"

Hermione noticed the Protector stayed with them as Lomet led them into the factory itself, giving them a tour of the production floor. Hermione couldn't make out more than a series of steel frames from where she stood, but they did not look like autocarriages so much as wide…

"Mar Lomet?" She guessed from context that _Mar_ was the equivalent of the English title Mister or possible Sir. "Are those mechanical harvesters?"

He glanced at her, surprised. "Why, yes, yes they are. When an order comes in, we make what is requested. The Office of Agriculture requested a dozen mechanical harvesters. Ten are to be motorized, the other two will be for trade with Uggadin."

Uggadin sounded like a rival nation, or possibly a city-state. "I see. Thank you for explaining."

They came to a manually operated elevator attended by another older man in the same uniform as the receptionist. "Floor, Mar Lomet?" the man asked timidly.

"The top." Lomet looked back to Hermione, studying her intently, before looking at the Protector. "Aldal, it is good to see you again, my friend. Are you well?"

"I am. Thank you, Mar Lomet." While the Protector did not sound precisely respectful, at least he sounded polite. "I am sorry to hear of the loss of your niece."

Lomet nodded, absently curling his mustache while he kept a hand on Loris's shoulder. "It is a great loss. My sister and her husband will be devastated."

The excruciatingly slow elevator finally came to a stop after taking them up above the production floor into what looked like an executive floor that had luxuriously waxed wood paneling on the walls. The floor was cold tile, but with warm, brightly colored runners and rugs everywhere.

Carpeting did not seem to be in favor. The master of the facility swept down the hall in his great coat, throwing wide the doors onto a floor of administrative workers. Hermione, expecting to see at least some woman, was again disappointed to see only men. The employees stood as Loris and Lira stepped in, bowed their heads and began to lightly applaud the girls in welcome.

"Thank you, my friends!"

After that brisk but oddly muted welcome, they continued into Lomet's office suite, which proved to not be an office so much as a residential suite on par with the White House. And waiting within, wearing breath-taking, curve-hugging, cleavage-revealing dresses of lurid reds, yellows and purples, stood two women in their mid-thirties.

" _Umum_!" Lira shouted with the same abandon she showed for her promised. She ran to the taller of the two women and hugged her enthusiastically. Loris, meanwhile, walked with more reserve but no less emotion to the shorter of the women and hugged her.

Wives. Hermione began to roll her eyes, thinking how typical of a society that subjugated women, that a man would have two wives. Until, of course, she remembered that she was one of two wives herself.

"Suna, Mulla, our daughters have returned," Mar Lomet announced grandly.

"And you think we did not notice?" the taller one said sharply. "And who is the tall one with the bone-skin?"

"Umum, this is _Anu_ Hermione! She and her kin saved us from the Goa'uld!" Lira said.

"Lira, do not speak so!" the shorter wife said. "To use such a word invites the wrath of Anshur! Let those in heaven be heavenly! Those of us who walk on the ground are not!"

"Regardless, they say this child saved my girls, and so she is welcome!" Mar Lomet, a little less grandly in the face of wives who evidently were not required to take him seriously once within the confines of their home. "See that she has the finest clothes to wear as I have a feast prepared to welcome back my daughters!"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The bath was beyond luxurious. Hermione almost fell asleep as she sank into the soft, scented water of the tub. She was barely conscious of the fact that Loris and Lira shared the same bath while their mothers waited on them all like servants. Granted, the mothers were like servants with biting tongues and humor so dry it was almost enough to evaporate the bath itself, but the water made up for it.

"Your hair is so messy!" one of them, whom Hermione believed was Mulla, Lira's mother, said as she washed Hermione's hair.

"Yes, it has always been a bother," she said absently, too taken by the sensation to present much willpower.

"Why is your skin so white?" the other, Suna, said. "You look like your bone is on the wrong side!"

Hermione fought a smile. "Among my people, we have many different skin tones, from pale like mine, to skin like yours, to those whose skin is as black as night."

"You should see her sister wife!" Lira said excitedly. "Her hair is the color of bleached straw!"

"Hush, now, no one has hair color like that," Suna said. It was Suna who castigated Lira for calling Hermione heavenly.

"Luna does," Hermione said. "Her hair is a color in our language we call blonde—a white-yellow color. Her eyes are a silver-blue like the sky. Perhaps you will see her someday."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

She was given a dress that must have been tailored the moment she stepped into the water, since it fit perfectly. It was a more somber gold color and a looser cut, not as clinging as the dresses of Mulla and Suna. Her slipper-like shoes came in a matching fabric. A wide silken sash provided a place for her to hook her lightsaber. Thus dressed, the women finally guided out of the extravagant women's quarters, which she could only think of as a seraglio.

She paused briefly, however, when she reached the dining room and discovered that Mar Lomet was not alone. Protector Arda was there, but so were two more uniformed men, and three more men in wildly elaborate robes of bright orange with long, conical hats lined in what almost looked like cuneiform.

The moment the other women saw the priests, they bowed from the waists and kept their eyes down. Hermione, though, refused to do that.

"She does not bow," one of the men said in a deep, pompous voice. "She shows contempt for the gods."

"I show loyalty to my own gods," Hermione answered back. "Surely learned men such as yourself would not claim yours as the only god worthy of worship?"

Mar Lomet opened his mouth and stared gaping at her. Arda merely stared, while the two soldiers blinked at her tone.

"Hermione, it is forbidden for a woman to speak to a magi!" Loris hissed.

"I am Hermione Potter, and in all the worlds of the universe, the only man I answer to is my husband," Hermione said. "And likewise he answers to me. If they wish to speak about me, they will do so directly."

All three magi sputtered as if insulted, but Hermione ignored them as she walked toward the still-gaping Kisher Lomet. "Mar Lomet, I thank you for your hospitality. My husband asked me to come with your girls in the hopes of obtaining a mechanical harvester for our new world. But if my presence causes you issue, I will be glad to take my leave."

" _Sinnis_ Potter," Arda said cooly, "I'm afraid we cannot allow you to leave just yet. All Uggadin who set foot on Erid must be tested."

In her mind, Hermione adjusted her understanding. Uggadin was not a rival state; it was anyone who was not of Erid. "And just how is one tested?"

"Have the Uggadin hold the _Eberu_ bracelet," the center, lead priest said. He handed a delicate silver device that looked almost like the skeleton of a glove, with finger caps and rings all connected by a series of supple wires to a metallic ribbon that appeared to fit onto the forearm. Arda accepted the odd contraption and stepped toward Hermione promptly.

"Put this on," he said, as if the priest had not just spoken. "If you are clean, nothing will happen. If you have been tainted by evil, it will glow."

Somehow, Hermione was not surprised when she pulled the bracelet on, and it not only glowed, but shone brilliantly. "Obviously we have different definitions of evil," she said to the stunned onlookers.


	15. Pragmatic Dogmatism

A/N: Chap 14 Review Responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen: Pragmatic Dogmatism**

The head Magi shouted with parade-ground volume, " _Maskim Xul_! Evil fiend! Witch! This one is a Goa'uld spy! The stone does not lie! This whole house has been tainted. Guards, kill them all!"

Hermione's mind began to race. The twenty men who entered at a run through the door wore less cumbersome variants of the Magi uniforms—tunics that hung down mid-thigh with black trousers and lace-up black boots that rose up and over the pant legs to mid-calf. Without her wand, Hermione's options were limited. She turned to buy time when something extraordinary happened.

She felt the strange ribbon device on her hand channel her magic. She was so shocked by the device that she barely had time to react when the soldiers began firing. With the feeling of her magic flowing, she responded with that rather than the Force. Holding her hand out, she summoned abasic _protego_ charm. What snapped in front of her was a shimmering blue shield very nearly as powerful as Harry's, which stopped a whole fusillade of gunfire.

The soldiers faltered, and in that one second, Hermione turned the device on herself and cast a _disillusionment_ charm.

"Where is she?" one of the soldiers asked.

Hermione's heart raced almost as fast as her mind with the sheer joy of having her magic back. But over the emotion, there was also a profound disappointment that her mission was going to fail, politically at least. Harry wanted to form an alliance after Lira and Loris mentioned what their father did for a living. It seemed obvious that wasn't going to work now.

However, her mission might not be a complete failure. Hermione prepared to apparate to the production floor—one way or the other she was going to get a harvester—when she heard the lead Magi yelling orders to his men.

"It doesn't matter if the demon has gone or not! Kisher Lomet has allowed evil to defile his home and taint his family! In the name of Holy Anshur, Prince of Heaven, all their lives are forfeit!"

"No!" Lira screamed in terror as the priest-soldiers raised their guns.

 _Well_. That decided that.

Still disillusioned, Hermione lit her saber and attacked the back row of hapless gunmen. If she had the Force only, she would have had no choice but to kill the soldiers in order to save the others. But with the strange ribbon device channeling her magic as if she wielded the Elder wand itself, whole new possibilities opened up before her.

With her magic, her saber, and twenty men in close quarters with long, clunky bolt-action rifles, the temple soldiers no longer presented a legitimate threat. None of their randomly fired bullets even came close to her as she cast stunner after stunner, taking them down faster than even they could keep track. As men panicked and fell unconscious to the floor, Hermione could not help but compare their performance to the Jaffa she fought. In comparison, the temple soldiers were slower, weaker, and seemed unable to calculate where her body was in relation to her lightsaber. Somehow, she knew Bra'tac would have.

Just like that, twenty men lay unconscious at her feet. It was so easy; she would have been frightened by it if she had time to consider it. She let her _disillusionment_ charm end and stared intently at those who remained. Arda stood wide-eyed with a pistol in his hand, but she knew he had not fired. The three priests, no longer so brave, cowered behind a buffet that still had the meal Mar Lomet planned to feed them.

Lomet himself stood before his wives, but his eyes were not on Hermione. No, he was staring intently at where Lira knelt down, sobbing, beside her sister Loris. The younger Lomet sister had a rapidly spreading stain of blood on her yellow and blue dress where one of the few stray bullets must have struck her in the stomach.

"Bugger," Hermione muttered. She deactivated her sword. It was odd using the ribbon device in lieu of a wand because there was no flicking and swishing, but she knew the spells well enough that she was able to point, flick her fingers, and transfigure Arda's pistol to a fish before levitating the frightened man to the ceiling and sticking him there with a charm. "Stay," she said curtly.

The priests, sensing her coming, stood and bolted for the door. A pair of quick stunners downed two of the old, bearded fat men. The third covered his head with his arms and whimpered as he fell to his knees. Hermione, all patience lost, gripped him not magic, but the Force, and levitated him from the floor with one out-stretched hand.

"How many more men do you have?"

"Thousands!" the man gibbered madly. Her nostrils flared at the stench of urine coming from him. "Our numbers are like the…"

She spun and flung him across the room to where he slammed into a column with bone-breaking power. She didn't know if he survived, nor did she care. "Bah, that was all you had, you fat old hypocrite," she muttered. She turned her attention to the girls. "Lira…"

"She is killed!" Lira wailed. "She is shot! She is…"

Hermione sighed as she knelt down opposite the distraught girl and checked for a pulse. Loris was alive, but just barely. Again, without a wand, her options would be limited. But now, Hermione knelt down in front of the sisters and held the device over Loris's chest.

The spell should have provided a magical scan of her body, hovering just inside her eyes. But with the device, she felt the information with remarkable clarity. It seemed as if she were looking directly at Loris's torn stomach and the bullet still lodged there.

The device itself guided her hand, and with a start she realized that it had a power all its own. It was a power that melded remarkably well with her magic, but could operate independently of it as well. She let the device's power guide her, and watched in surprise as the device began showering down healing light into the wound.

The bullet dissolved, and before her senses Hermione watched as the tissue of the stomach lining knitted together whole and strong, as if it were not just ripped apart by a bullet. The sepsis that had already begun cleared up in seconds. The device healed the rest of the tissue, leaving only a small, pink, pucker-like scar to mark where she was shot.

Loris's eyes popped open. Blinking back tears, she turned to Hermione and whispered, " _Anu Gula_. You are a goddess!"

"I was born a woman just like you," Hermione said with a gentle smile. She vanished the blood and then charmed the dress fixed. Standing, she moved toward the large man who was to be her host. "I am sorry I have caused you such trouble, Mar Lomet. If I leave now, what will happen?"

Lomet looked at the moaning head Magi, and the two other crumpled forms, before examining the unconscious temple guards. "I am lost," he said tonelessly. "Cast out. In this world, the Magi are the ultimate authority. Civil courts bow before their rulings. I have led a party attempting to curtail their power, and they have been looking for a reason to destroy me. If they say that I and mine are tainted, then we will die. There is nothing I can do."

"You can come with me," Hermione said without hesitation. "We are on a world that recently went through their own reaping, and will need your expertise in machines to recover. But you need to know this, Mar Lomet. It is culturally opposite of Erid. It is a world in which the women are the authority. You could find a new life, teaching them how to build machines to improve their lives, but it would mean accepting a different way of life, and new, different ideas."

"It was not such a bad place," Lira said between hiccups. She was clinging once more to her sister.

"You ask much," Lomet said.

Hermione shrugged. "I ask nothing, Mar Lomet. You will come or not. I will not make you; I simply offer you an alternative to death for yourself and your family"

The large man's shoulders slumped as he looked at his wives. "I could not stand to see you hurt," he said in a strangely small voice.

Hermione watched, surprised, as the two sharp-tongued women stood on either side, facing him. Neither were particularly tall, but he still had several inches on them. "You have been a good husband," Mulla said.

"If too liberal with your first daughter," Suna added.

Mulla sighed, and Hermione sensed that it was an old argument. "The gods know righteousness in our hearts, not our words," the taller wife said. "This you told me, when you first asked my father's blessings. The Temples are places of corruption and vice—all of Erid knows it. Perhaps when word of this day escapes, people will begin to see that the Magi do not speak the will of Anshur. Either way, I would live. I would that my daughter lived. And I will follow you anywhere if that is what it takes. And so will Suna."

The slightly shorter woman pouted, but finally nodded. "I do not want my Loris to perish."

"Then it's decided," Hermione said. "Go and get everything you need and just place it on the floor next to whatever trunk or case you have. It doesn't matter if you think it will fit or not—pile it to the ceiling if you must. But concentrate on things of necessity—warm clothes, blankets, jewels or precious metals. Photographs or family records, if you value them. Go, quickly."

And like that, the family split up to gather their things. Meanwhile, Hermione walked back to where Arda hung from the ceiling. "Now what should I do with you?"

"Kill me, of course," the man said with a brave face.

"I don't kill in cold blood," Hermione said. She pointed to the guards. "None of them are dead—they should all wake in a few hours." She ended the sticking charm, but caught him before he slammed into the floor twelve feet below.

Shaken, the man gathered his wits and stood. "Rogan is my son. He is promised to Lira—they were to be married at the Anshuramass."

Hermione shrugged. "Then let him come, if he chooses. I am not Goa'uld, Arda. One tried to possess me, but my blood protects me and burned Apophis's queen into dust. It was that dust—that remnant of her body—that this device recognized."

"I don't understand," he whispered. "What are you?"

"You might call me a witch," Hermione said. "It was my people who threw Ra off the world of your own ancestors thousands of years ago, using magic more powerful even than his weapons. We are going to destroy Ra and his children, Arda. We are going to wipe out the Goa'uld. And anyone who joins that fight will be welcome. But any who oppose us will be crushed."

"We are ready, _Anu_ Hermione!" Mulla called from the seraglio.

With a last glance at the stunned Protector, Hermione walked back to the seraglio. It took only moments to place expansion charms on their travel trunks, and then to magic their piles of belongings into each. Finally she shrank each trunk. "I hope you have sensible shoes," she said. "The Byrsa are a hardy people; you won't find much luxury there."

"We will survive," Suna said. "Your magic is useful. Always it takes days to pack, you did it in the blink of an eye. Come, girls!"

Mulla lingered behind as Suna led Lira and Loris out of the room. "Will my husband be safe?" she asked.

"If I can at all help it, yes," Hermione said earnestly. "Especially if we show up with a pair of mechanical harvesters and their plans!"

She charmed Kisher's belongings into his trunk, noticing with approval that he packed coats, fabrics and several pairs of boots, gloves and other useful items. "I wish to take two mechanical harvesters and their plans with us," Hermione said. "That was my original mission, after all."

"Why not?" Kisher Lomet said with a giddy voice verging on the edge of hysteria. "What use will I have for this place now? Aldal, my old friend, what will you do? The taint does not touch you yet."

Aldal Arda had not moved from where Hermione left him. He simply stood and watched. "I cannot go," he said slowly, heavily. "I am a Protector of Erid and her people. I have sworn a duty before heaven. But I will tell of what I saw this day."

"Will you help us?" Hermione asked.

"He cannot, Anu Hermione," Kisher said. "If he were to do so, he would then be tainted. He is bound by law and honor to stop us."

"And what of your son?" Hermione asked.

Arda lowered his head. "He is free to decide as his heart tells him. He is my youngest, else his spouse would have been appointed. He is only _Etlu_ , he has not taken the oath of the Protectors."

Hermione nodded, regarding the man intently. "Then for your honor, Protector, I shall render you unconscious. We will be gone when you wake."

"That would be appropriate," he said. To Lomet, he said, "May Anshur guide your steps, my friend."

"And yours," Kisher said.

With that, Hermione stunned the Protector. "He'll wake in a few hours just fine," she said to the others. "Now, let's go see about those harvesters, shall we?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Hermione carried two vastly shrunken mechanical harvesters and a stack of carefully drawn plans in a fold of her dress. Over it she wore a heavy black coat to ward off the biting cold of a winter night. Lomet drove the open-topped autocarriage through the city streets with Hermione in the front seat beside him, while the rest of his family crowded into the two seats behind.

Everyone else wore similar coats—it really was quite cold.

As they drove, Lomet spoke about the political structure of Erid. While they had not suffered any Goa'uld reapings for centuries, the last they did suffer through reduced them from a city-state of ten million to just a fraction of that.

"The chronicles tell of vast walls of dead. It was Ra's punishment for our faith in Anshur," Lomet said. "We have come far since then, but we are the only true city. The land for hundreds of miles around is farm land and villages. Most of Erid sits empty, though."

"That makes what you've accomplished even more impressive, really," Hermione said. "On my world, it was a population of almost over a billion that generated the industrial complex necessary to develop the first autocarriages."

"Billion? What is this number?"

"A thousand millions," Hermione said.

The number staggered Lomet. Before he could give too much thought to it, though, they arrived at the street corner facing the Ekur, the Mountain House. It was the single largest construction on Erid. "How many people are in there?"

"A thousand at least," Lomet said. "The Protectorate billets there to be near the gate in the event of attack. Those not of protectorate rank live there, while those like Protector Arda are allowed to marry and live outside. That is why my Lira is not married yet despite being almost eighteen."

It was only Hermione's personal experiences that kept her mouth shut rather than point out how very young that was. "Will Rogan help? Can he help?"

"Let me talk to him first, father," Lira begged from the back.

"It is unseemly," Lomet said, almost whining.

Suna snorted. "How is it different from her normal behavior? She has visited him at night before."

Lomet appeared shocked.

"I'll go with her, but none will see me," Hermione said.

The patriarch did not look ready to challenge Hermione, and so Lira got her wish. Hermione disillusioned herself as she and Lira climbed out and walked toward the imposing edifice. "Anu Hermione, may I beg a favor of you?"

"You can always ask," Hermione said, aware of the effect her disembodied voice had.

"Please, if they should fight us, please do not hurt my Rogan. He begged for my hand even though he was only an _Eklu_ , without rank within the Protectorate. He begged knowing my father was at odds with the Temples. My heart is his."

Hermione couldn't help but be moved by the girl's pleading. "I promise I won't harm him, but I can't promise to protect him if a fight starts."

"Thank you, _Anu_."

They stepped into the circle of electric lights which surrounded the building. The dull yellow light cast very discernible shadows. Hermione saw that her shadow was instead a shimmer of distortion on the ground. Hopefully no one would notice.

As they drew closer, a young man in Protectorate uniform stepped out, stifling a yawn. He saw who she was and snorted with a roll of his eyes. "Wait here," he said brusquely as he went inside.

A few minutes later Rogan stepped out, his uniform sloppily pulled on. "Lira!" he said with a goofy grin.

She melted into his arms, so thoroughly it actually pained Hermione a little. She cleared her throat.

"What was that?" he asked.

Lira looked guilty. "Rogan, we don't have time, so please listen. My family has been declared outcast. You know how the Magi have always wanted to destroy father. We escaped their guards, but our only safety is beyond the gate. Will you let us pass?"

"Who?" he asked.

"My family," Lira said. "My father, mother and Suna, and Loris."

"What of the _Ugaddin_? We have received orders to stop her at all costs!"

"She…she fled!" Lira lied. "The Magi came and cast her out. But they said…she saved my life from the demon gods, Rogan. How could I not repay her? She did nothing to any of us, but the Magi said we were unclean and were to be killed. I don't want to die, Rogan. Please, save me! Save my family! You could even come with us!"

"But to where?"

"I'm not sure," Lira said, again lying easily. "Anywhere but here. Will you help?"

"I must ask the commander. Stay."

Hermione shouldered closer to Lira as Rogen stepped back inside. The younger girl stood still for a moment before she sniffed and slowly wiped a tear from her eye. In a voice at once resigned and profoundly sad, she whispered: "He is not going to come with us."

"No, I don't believe he is."

Moments later Rogan returned with an older man with dark, receding hair and piercing black eyes. "Lira Lomet," the man said. "Rogan tells me that your father has been cast out. If that is true, you must know that I would have no choice but to arrest you."

Hermione cast the _Imperius_. Hers was not as powerful as Harry's or Luna's, but it was enough. The man's gaze slackened. "However, on my own authority I will allow you to pass. Fetch your family, they have ten minutes."

"Protector?" Rogan said, clearly stunned.

"On my personal authority," the slack-faced man said. He raised his voice for someone behind him. "Open the gates."

Lira turned and ran back to her father's car. Hermione, meanwhile, prompted the officer to walk through the tunnel-like entrance into the courtyard that housed the gate and then dial Cartago. The gate burst to life, and just moments later the Lomet autocarriage came rolling through the tunnel.

Unfortunately, at that point the Eridians proved that not only were they advanced enough to have internal combustion engines, but they figured out either telephones or telegraphs as well. Soldiers began pouring out of one of the doors, while all around murder holes slid open to allow rifle barrels to point out.

"Commander Zindari, halt!" another officer shouted. "We have received orders to take the Lomets into custody! They have been declared tainted. Close the gate now!"

Despite her _Imperius_ , the Protector's training was simply stronger. He shut the gate off before blinking. "What is happening here? Kolan, what are you doing out of bed?"

Things were going to hell fast. Hermione could have shielded herself well enough to activate and escape through the gate, but against so many guns and so many soldiers, she could not have defended the Lomet family at the same time. That ruled out fighting, which left either negotiating, which the Eridians did not appear interested in, or bluffing.

As dozens of soldiers dragged the frightened Lomets from their car, Hermione quickly formulated a plan. As much as she hated the fact that the Byrsa all but worshipped her, Luna and Harry, with that devotion came respect and obedience. Hermione didn't just need to scare the Eridians, she needed to awe them into obedience. And now, because of an alien device that channeled her magic better than anything she'd ever heard about, she had the tools to do just that.

She racked her brain for every charm she could think of, from simple blue bell flames to Harry's modified flying charm, and just as soldiers were forcing a weeping Lira Lomet onto her knees, she began to cast.

She transfigured her dress into a long, flowing white gown and then cast her brightest candescence charm on it until it glowed a brilliant white that illuminated the entire courtyard. She cast blue bell flames that flickered over her head almost like a brilliant blue halo, and hovered over the ground using Harry's flying charm he appropriated from Voldemort.

And using a _sonorous_ to add volume to shake the very foundations of the fortress, Hermione shouted, " _HOLD!"_

Protector Kolan stumbled back from her, eyes wide, while around them many of the protectors dropped first their weapons, and then themselves to their knees as they stared at the vision.

The angelic vision floated to the ground right in front of Protector Kolan. "Protector Kolan, you must let my chosen people pass."

"Chosen?" Elis Kolan stammered.

Hermione fed more magic into the blue bell flames, causing them to flicker higher about her head. "The fate of your entire world now rests solely on your next decision. Will you do as the false priests of your dead god tell you, and condemn your world to death and darkness, or will you release those I have chosen so that all may have a chance of life?"

"I don't understand," Kolan stammered.

"It is simple," Hermione said. She rose further into the air, and at her direction the blue flame suddenly turned red with a simple color-change charm as the volume of her voice rose back to glass-shattering heights. "Release us so that your world may live, or try to stop us, and condemn your world to death!"

The soldiers holding the Lomet family staggered away. Hermione turned and concentrated with the Force, using it alone to dial Cartago. She knew from the perspective of the Eridians, it looked like magic.

The gate activated. Unfortunately, at that very moment ten temple guards came running into the courtyard with their rifles at bay. "Stop them!" the leader shouted. It was not Aldal Arda, for which Hermione was grateful considering what she had to do. Summoning every bit of the Force she could gather while struggling to maintain all the glamours she'd cast, Hermione turned and lashed at the approaching men with the most powerful burst of Force-lightning she ever produced.

The blast sent men screaming through the air to land in twitching, unconscious heaps. "Blasphemers!" she screamed, still with the _Sonorous_ charm in place. "False speakers for a dead god, we will tolerate your sins no longer!"

She spun back to the Protectors, and to a man everyone in uniform dropped their weapons; those still standing quickly fell to their knees. Hermione turned and stared down at the Lomets. Loris glanced up at her before grabbing her father's shoulders. The stunned man shook himself from his shock and, with nervous glances all around, they climbed back into the autocarriage and drove it up the ramp and through the gate.

When he was gone, Hermione levitated herself back to the ground.

"You have chosen wisely this day, Commander Kolan," Hermione said. The blue belle flames eased back into a soothing blue. "Remember what you have seen, and ready yourselves. One greater than I may someday come, a Bridge Unto Heaven for all those who believe. If on that day you stand ready, then there will be hope for your world."

With that, Hermione turned and stepped through the gate.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The moment they crossed the threshold, Hermione released her magic, fell to the packed snow in front of the gate, and collapsed out from magical exhaustion.

Harry appeared a second later, causing the stunned Lomets to jump. "What happened?" he snapped.

The elder Lomets were speechless. It was Loris who climbed out of the autocarriage and fell to her knees, prostrating herself. "Akai'kheb, _Anu_ Hermione saved us from the Protectors with great magics."

Harry looked down as Hermione stirred briefly. She saw him and grinned as she lifted her wand hand and showed him the ribbon. "It's like my own Elder Wand," she whispered before slipping into a deep sleep.


	16. The Price of Prata

A/N: Chap 15 review responses are in my forums. And now, a note about this chapter and the story itself. There will be, by necessity, time skips. There will be, by necessity, chapters with different POVs because the trio are building an empire, and they can't personally see every aspect of that. And as a completely different aside, the character Ishta was played by Jolene Blalock of ST: Enterprise fame.

Trigger Warning: I don't normally issue these, but this chapter describes Moloc the Defiler, who is specifically referenced in the Old Testament as receiving child sacrifice. By choosing the name, the Stargate writers were pretty much telling you everything you needed to know about Moloc. BAD THINGS happen in this chapter. Feel free to skip to the end.

* * *

 **Part III: The Path to Empire**

 **Chapter Sixteen: The Price of Prata**

The first person through the Stargate emerged at a squat, with a staff weapon held ready to fire. Dark eyes scanned the area around the gate. Hardened leather hugged her form as she reached the bottom of the ramp. Behind, two more women emerged and immediately jumped off the sides of the ramp to take up positions on either side of the rear of the gate.

More came, a dozen in all. In their center, making up the middle of the pentagram formation, came a girl of only thirteen. Unlike the other women, who moved with quiet assurance of skill and strength, the girl stumbled and gasped in pain with each step.

The first through and the only one with blonde hair—albeit dark, dyed blonde hair—turned to the girl. "Soon, Mala. Be strong."

"Yes, Ishta," the girl said. She walked on her own, but had to take short steps. Her beautiful black skin glistened with sweat from her suffering. She suffered the curse that all Jaffa suffered upon puberty—the Age of Prata that brought death unless implanted with a larval Goa'uld. But on the worlds of Moloc the Defiler, such were saved only for the male Jaffa. It defied any attempt at logic that Moloc would condemn his own Jaffa to an eventual death due to a lack of new births, but he was ancient, and the ancient gods did not always care about logic, decency, or honor.

Moloc least of all.

Ishta led the party of women out of the clearing that circled the gate and into a line of thin poplar trees. Ducking in and out of branches while moving with near preternatural silence, the thirteen women moved in a perfect synchronization of long practice and close living. Finally, they reached the end of the copse of trees and knelt down on the edge of a battle.

The armies of Tilgath and Ramius battled on the floor of a valley framing what looked to be a naquedah mine. The bodies not just of Jaffa, but also the human slaves who worked the mine, littered the valley floor as mute testament to the ferocity of the battle. Overhead, a pair of death gliders fired upon an al'kesh.

"It is not safe there yet," she whispered. "But we must move closer. Perhaps we will find bodies away from the current fighting."

The others gathered around Mala and helped her stand. Together, they made their way along the tree line until they could reach a portion of the hill covered in trees that would cover their approach into the valley.

The sounds of staff fire covered their steps. A thunderous explosion shook the ground and made all thirteen of the women squat down—one of the Death Gliders had crashed. The pilot, wishing to make his death count, brought the glider down right in the middle of Tilgath's forces, tearing a hole through the defensive line that Ramius's Jaffa charged with angry shouts.

Once upon a time, Ishta would have viewed the battle as glorious. The Jaffa fought on both sides with valor, honoring their gods with the blood they spilled. But then her god betrayed her and all her sister Jaffa. He decreed that only male Jaffa were to receive their Prim'tah ceremony. Only males were to survive their Age of Prata and be implanted.

If such horror were not enough, two years later Moloc decreed that any newborn girls of the Jaffa were to be sacrificed to him in fire. That is why Ishta now stood on this world, risking her life and the lives of her sisters, and why she could no longer look upon the battle below as anything but needless death spurred by spiteful gods.

They made their way down the hillside, making sure to stay in the cover of the trees while at the same time straining to hear or see any sign they were detected. Ishta and the rest of her sisters were now _Shol'va_ , betrayers of the will of Moloc. They would find no succor or assistance from any Jaffa, regardless of which god they served. That was the way of the Goa'uld.

Istha heard the clink of moving armor ahead and motioned for everyone to get down. She watched as a pair of large Jaffa warriors stepped into view, almost silent if not for their metal armor. She felt her heart skip a beat, however, when she saw their faces, and the winged symbol on their foreheads not of Tilgath or Ramius, but of Moloc.

They were Ryk'l and Doric, two of Moloc's warriors. For them to be on this world could only mean that somehow Moloc knew Ishta would come.

She paused as another possibility occurred to her—what if the Goa'uld sent warriors to all ongoing battles. Who knew how wide the net was? However, after a few moments of watching, Ishta felt confident that the two warriors walked alone.

She glanced at Arisq while reaching for the zat'ni'katel at her hip. Arisq did the same. The two women raised their weapons, and as one fired. Ryk'l and Doric dropped to the valley floor. They waited a few minutes more to see if anyone came, but none did. Instead, the sounds of battle below grew even louder as evidence that Ramius's men were overtaking Tilgath's.

"Quickly," Ishta hissed. They all rushed further down the hill to where the two Jaffa warriors fell. Arisq quickly stripped both men of their weapons while Ishta cut away Doric's armor to expose his pouch.

"Mala, come," she said.

The teen stumbled down the hill, breathing in short, pained gasps. They were cutting things desperately close! Without hesitation, Ishta plunged her hand into Doric's pouch, and after searching found the reluctant Goa'uld larva inside. She pulled it free, clutching the wiggling thing in both hands. Mala laid down on the ground and hitched up her tunic to reveal her own pouch opening. With a prayer to the Ancients, Ishta thrust the larva inside the girl's smaller abdominal pouch.

Mala bit her lip in pain so hard it bled, but she did not make a sound that would give away their position. Loa and Tan'yl held her arms as she fought through the sensation of the Goa'uld filling her body, but in moments it passed.

Ishta could see that the larva accepted its new home simply by the fact that Mala stopped perspiring. Her ashen gray skin darkened back into a healthy sheen as the larva took over her weakened immune system and brought with it both health and enslavement.

Mala opened her eyes and smiled up at Isha, oblivious of the blood that ran down her chin from where she bit her lip. "Thank you, my sister," she whispered.

Ishta felt a surge of pride as she gripped the young woman's hand as a warrior would. " _Shal kek nem ron_."

"I too shall die free," Mala echoed.

She stood, and did so stronger and healthier than when she lay down. Ishta turned from them and knelt down over Doric. She removed her blade, and with a quick slice saved the Jaffa from the pain losing his symbiote would undoubtedly cause.

None of the others even blinked, despite the fact they all knew him by name, and some had even played with him as a child. There were not so many Jaffa on Moloc's world anymore that they would be strangers to each other. Together, the Hak'tyl resistance gathered their weapons, new and old, and started back up the hill from where they came.

Below, the forces of Tilgath were defeated, but fighting on anyway to achieve an honorable death. The Jaffa of Ramius granted that death without hesitation, shooting their brother Jaffa point-blank with their staff weapons. It was very honorable, and yet those men were just as dead; their wives just as widowed; their children just as orphaned.

Ishta did not watch any more—it hurt too much to think about all the death their gods caused. Instead, she put her energy into climbing up the steep slope of the valley wall. She did not let her guard down at all—they would not be out of danger until they were through the gate.

A year ago, battles such as Tilgath and Ramius fought would never have come to such blows. They were both underlords of Apophis, and normally the brother of Ra would have kept a closer tab on his underlings. But since the System Lord lost his queen Amaunet, he had retreated to his fortress on Chulak leaving his subordinates largely unchecked. There were rumors running about that Ra himself might be forced to intercede, again starting a war among the System Lords that would undoubtedly cost millions of Jaffa lives.

They finally reached the tree line, but did not continue out. Instead, Ishta knelt down behind a tree and tried to pinpoint what made her uncomfortable. Arisq joined her.

"I smell armor," she whispered.

That was it—with a name on it she was able to narrow down what bothered her to the smell of armor—the harsh tint of metal and sweat on the air that was the hallmark of a typical Jaffa warrior. "Reinforcements?" she mused aloud.

"Or a trap," Arisq countered.

"Either is bad for us."

"What do we do?"

Ishta looked over the field with a frown. "We either risk it and go, or be patient. Either way presents risks. The Defiler must at least suspect we would come here to have sent those men, and when they do not report his suspicions will be confirmed. Perhaps it is a better risk to rush. But we must be careful. I will go first and dial the gate. If there is no sign of opposition, then you must run at speed to enter the gate."

Arisq nodded and clasped her leader's hand. "Be strong, sister."

Ishta nodded. As she left her group, she touched each fondly on the shoulder. Mala smiled up at her with faith and trust in her expression. It took only minutes for Ishta to leave the party behind. In case it was a trap, she did not wish to leave the tree line near where her sisters waited. So she moved a quarter of a mile to the other side of the clearing, staying well within the tree line. When she emerged, it was opposite of where she squatted just minutes ago.

She moved swiftly, her eyes darting constantly over the field as she searched for threats. The smell of armor hung in the air like a miasma, but she could not see any sign of…

 _There._ She felt her pouch muscles clench as she caught the faintest hint of a line in the dirt near the gate. Was that there when she and her sisters came through? She stopped in her tracks, squatted down, and slowly began backing away.

The moment her forward progress stopped, traps popped open in a spray of dirt and sod, revealing two dozen heavily armed Jaffa, all of Moloc. Ishta fired her staff weapon without hesitation, killing a man with her first shot even as she back-pedaled toward the trees. If she was going to die, it would do so facing her foes!

Only, her foes did not fight to kill—they brandished zat'nikitels. She screamed not just to vent her frustration and despair, but to warn her sisters to flee. She never had time to finish the sound, however, as blue energy struck her down.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Ishta woke to screams. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sound because she recognized them. Arisq. _Oh my sisters, how I failed you._

The screams ended with the sickening _snick_ of a blade slicing through flesh. "Hang the body for the birds like the others, I'm done with it," the deep, most hated voice Ishta knew said with contempt.

She felt a sharp blade against her bare breast, but where it touched, a hot fluid remained. Arisq's blood, she had no doubt. "I know you are awake, dear Ishta," Moloc the Defiler said. "I have been waiting a long time to speak with you."

Ishta opened her eyes, and almost immediately she regretted it.

Mala hung upside down by her ankles from a quickly-made wooden frame, her face frozen in the rictus expression of pain and terror that marked her final moments of life. Her body was rife with small cuts, with the largest running so deeply across her throat Ishta could see bone, and the blood from it had soaked into her hair, causing it to hang down like a dark waterfall frozen in time. Tears welled in her eyes despite her strongest will not to show weakness to the Defiler, but even if she could withstand any pain to herself, to see young Mala so broke her soul.

Just as Moloc intended.

"You are going to tell me where the rest of the _shol'va_ are, Ishta," Moloc said with an almost beatific smile. "It will take days. I know this. But what you may not realize is how much more I will enjoy the process." He leaned down and ran his tongue up the length of her body, from the line of her pubic hair until her chin. "Oh yes, I will enjoy breaking you."

His beatific smile burned into a deep, resentful rage as a Jaffa stopped nearby and fell to his knees, head bowed and arm across his chest. "Forgive my impertinence, Dread Lord. Mighty Ramius has begged for words with you."

"Words, words, words," Moloc said with a tired sigh. "Always words." To Istha's horror, the mad god raised his hand and killed the Jaffa instantly with the golden _kara kesh_ he wore on his hand, like all Goa'uld. He turned and smiled once again at Ishta. "This way, the others will know the price for interrupting the entertainment I shall take with breaking you. But for now, I must go have words with Mighty Ramius."

He turned and left her there, tied down to a roughly made bier of wood, surrounded by the bleeding, broken bodies of her sisters. She watched his progress and saw how the Jaffa fell to their knees as he passed, as terrified in their own way as she was. And why not? There was no rhyme nor reason to his madness, nor limit to those he would kill as a result of it.

Ishta closed her eyes again, wondering if it was possible for her to swallow her own tongue to choke to death. It would be preferable to what Moloc would do to her. He'd earned the title Defiler for very good reason. But then, she had no doubt he would revive her in his sarcophagus to kill her again.

"Jaffa, _kree_!"

Ishta's eyes popped open to see Ryk'l, the survivor of the two Jaffa her sisters ambushed, motioning for the other Jaffa to approach. "Lord Moloc has bade us gather. Come!"

Ryk'l was not particularly old nor experienced, and most definitely did not hold high station. The First Prime himself stepped forward, scowling. "What foolishness is this?" he said, as the dozen other Jaffa in the make-shift camp gathered behind him. "The Dread Lord left no such orders!"

"I must be mistaken, then," Ryk'l said, a split second before the _tok'kal_ shock grenade exploded right in the midst of the gathered Jaffa. Every one of them stumbled away to the ground, most unconscious, the rest blinded or disoriented by the weapon. Ryk'l took those still conscious out with a zat'niketel.

He then turned to Ishta and withdrew his combat knife which he used to cut the bindings that held her. Ishta instantly rolled off the bier to her feet, only to fall because her legs were numb and did not respond. "You must be quick," Ryk'l said as he came around and helped her to her feet. He reached into his armor and removed a sheet of papyrus. "I have not seen what resides in this note, and so I cannot give it away. It is a sanctuary I learned of two months ago from a free Jaffa."

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

He pointed to Arisq, now swaying by her ankles a few feet away. His voice was deep with emotion, though his face was stony. "She was my wife. Our daughter is with you, even now. Moloc will find your sanctuary, Ishta, and destroy it. But in the world that sheet will take you, there may be hope. Go, and save my daughter."

Ishta stared intently into the man's eyes, and in those depths saw only truth and terrible pain. "What shall I tell your daughter?"

"That I died for her, and that it was a good death."

Ishta nodded before turning and running barefoot across the short, stiff grass to the dialing device. She opened the slip of papyrus and saw a gate address she did not recognize. Without hesitation, she began pressing symbols. As the _chappa'ai_ opened, she hazarded one last look at Ryk'l and saw him kneeling down with his chin over the end of his staff, and one hand stretching down to the firing mechanism. He could not join her; his honor would not allow it. And so he chose death as punishment for disobeying his god. By firing directly into his head, he ensured not even the Goa'uld could revive him.

She crossed the event horizon as the sound of a staff weapon firing reached her ears.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

She stumbled on still weak legs from the gate, barely catching herself as she moved down the ramp, until her progress was abruptly halted by an invisible energy shield of some kind that threw her back onto her bare rump.

She blinked back tears from the shock and the horror of her last hour of existence, and for the first time saw the world the address had taken her too. She half expected to see Moloc himself staring at her with that horrible, beatific smile of his. Instead, she found herself staring at a strangely pale girl with long, almost white-blonde hair and the oddest shade of silver blue eyes she had ever seen.

"Oh, goodness," the girl said in oddly accented Goa'uld. She stepped across the shield barrier with no sign it even existed. She draped a heavy robe over Ishta's shoulder, even though Ishta did not see where it came from. "Are you injured?"

Made speechless by the sudden, unexpected kindness, Ishta could only shake her head. Over the odd girl's head, she could see a collection of large wooden buildings rising up on one side of the typical clearing most stargates were held in, while on the other side rose an ancient Goa'uld-designed Jaffa barracks, only this one was washed clean and apparently in good repair.

The clearing itself had been paved in flagstones. Marching quickly across the flagstones was an elderly Jaffa with the golden symbol of Apophis on his forehead. The First Prime of Apophis!

A thrill of terror surged through Ishta. She backed away, desperately looking for the dialing device, but it was outside of the invisible shield perimeter. The odd blonde girl, however, suddenly hugged her. "It's okay," she said gently, as to a child. "That is Bra'tac, the _Shol'va_ , former First Prime of Apophis. He is a friend."

Indeed, the old Jaffa stopped at the edge of the barrier, staff in hand. He wore no armor, though—not even a skull cap. Instead, he wore sturdy pantaloons and a heavy white blouse cinched by a thick leather belt. He still carried his staff, though.

"This one bears the mark of Moloc," he said. "From her appearance, I would guess this is the one Ryk'l told Teal'c about." He turned to look her in the eye. "Are you Ishta, former High Priestess of Moloc?"

In a voice made thick with emotion, she said, "I am."

"I am Bra'tac," the old Jaffa said. "And beside you is the Lady Luna. Come, we shall find clothes and food."

"And a bath," Luna said.

"A bath would be welcome," Ishta admitted. "I am stained with the blood of my sisters, and the touch of the Defiler."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Bathed and covered in clothes similar to those of Bra'tac, Ishta sat at a wooden table in a garden behind the barracks with a full plate of food, and a tankard of rich, warm beer.

The food was brought by locals—humans who looked much as most humans did across the galaxy. She could not help but notice how the humans looked at the petite girl with the pale white-blonde hair with fearful, respectful expressions, even if she herself appeared to be the soul of kindness. Bra'tac sat with them, even eating with her so she did not eat alone in their company.

"You have questions?" she finally asked.

"Of course," Luna said. "However, we wish my husband to hear your story. This way, you only have to speak of it once."

Given how painful her experiences were, Ishta could only appreciate the thoughtfulness. "Is your husband near?"

"He is in the woods with our men, training," Bra'tac said proudly. "I like his training techniques. We Jaffa, we train as warriors. But the Akai'kheb trains these humans to be soldiers."

Ishta dropped her tankard at the term Bra'tac used. "Akai'kheb?" she asked.

"He is a bridge to heaven," Bra'tac said, speaking as a man wholly enthralled with his new god. He was still telling the story when a party of new comers arrived. In their lead was a short human of unremarkable physique but startling green eyes. He was accompanied by a pair of tall, strong Jaffa and another human of unusually wide girth.

Bra'tac stood, and because he did Istha did as well. "How went the training, Akai'kheb?" Bra'tac asked of the young man.

"Teal'c scored another victory," the short human said with a wry smile. "An'hur had better think of some good strategies if he's going to catch up."

The shorter, paler of the two Jaffa nodded. "It is true, Teal'c has bested my men four of the last six matches. Next time, perhaps, I shall gain the upper hand."

Teal'c, the taller and more handsome of the men, however, ignored the exchange and studied Ishta intently. "You bear the sign of Moloc," he said in a strong, deep voice. "Ryk'l told me of one such as you, who had the courage to fight the Defiler's madness. You are Ishta?"

She nodded, not sure what to say in the face of such praise.

"Luna?" Harry asked.

Luna gave Ishta an appraising look. "She's suffered a horrible trauma lately. I saw images of Moloc defiling her and her sister rebels before killing them in horrible ways."

Ishta reared back as if struck. "I have said nothing of that."

"The Lady Luna does not need words to know a person's soul," Bra'tac explained. "She is wife consort to the Akai'kheb."

Luna smiled at Ishta, but the expression did not quell her unease.

"Ryk'l warned that Moloc was close to finding where the rebels were hiding," Teal'c said. "If he did indeed deal the Hak'tyl a defeat, then he likely knows by now."

"They are undefended!" Ishta blurted out. "All of our best fighters were…I am all that remains. The rest are girls, many still below the Age of Prata. If Moloc finds them, he will slaughter them all!"

The Akai'kheb walked to the table and sat, motioning for the rest to do so as well. The table was long enough that all of his party was able to do so. The locals brought more food, and the others all began to eat too, having obviously spent the day in harsh exertion. "We can safely field what, fifty men?" the Akai'kheb said.

"Yes," Bra'tac said. "We have another hundred who have volunteered now that they have seen what Mar Lomet's harvesters can do for them, but I would not trust those with a weapon, much less an enemy."

"How many warriors is Moloc likely to bring?"

"He brought a dozen and five to defeat my sisters and I," Ishta said, hope suddenly blossoming in her chest for the first time. "But if he brings his whole army, they will be easily a thousand or more."

"So, not all at once, this time," the Akai'kheb mused. "But enough to get their attention. And if Moloc is there, I can take him out easily enough. Luna, you said you wanted a kara'kesh of your own. This might be your chance."

Luna beamed.

Ishta, though, looked from one to the other. "I do not understand."

"We're going to help you because it's the right thing to do," Luna said. "But we're trying to decide whether to try and destroy Moloc now, or do just enough damage to get your sisters free. Either way, we will save them. That is a promise."

* * *

A/N #2: A long time ago I made a conscious decision to never depict certain actions in my stories. However, I also feel that the narrative is damaged when a writer goes to insane lengths to pretend certain atrocities never happen, when in fact they were so common they were _not considered a crime at all through much of history._ A lord with authority over women abused those women. This is a statement of undeniable fact that we see in some parts of the world even today. If those women rebel against that lord, the abuse gets nasty. Whatever I described in this chapter, the reality would have been a thousand times worse. I simply _chose_ not to depict it.


	17. Saving the Girls

A/N: Chap 16 reviews in my forums like normal. This was a slightly clunky chapter, but necessary.

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: Saving the Girls**

On the evening after a naked, bloody Ishta of Hak'tyl arrived through the stargate, Harry Potter walked by himself down the boulevard of the growing town called Byrsa.

Though he knew intellectually it was wrong to be grateful for the slaughter of over half the Byrsa race, nonetheless Apophis's casual slaughter of all the elders created a unique situation for Harry and his family. They walked into a young, traumatized society that had completely lost most of its traditions, since it was the Elders of the Byrsa who passed down their history, traditions and rites. The slightly hallucinogenic beer they tried to get Luna and Hermione with was now a lost art, since none survived who knew its secrets.

In truth, the survivors were young, scared and lost, unsure of themselves or their place in the world. Into that equation walked Harry, Hermione and Luna. Their powers won instant respect and fear, but beyond that their ideas formed roots in the loose soil of a recently tilled society.

Just in the single year since Harry, Hermione and Luna arrived, more Byrsa lived in houses than in their ancestral caves.

The largest structure the Byrsa had ever built was no longer Harry's gymnasium—rather it was a school. Catherine, Ernest, Melburn and Claire all taught English reading, writing, mathematics and basic science to students who had to be convinced the preservation of words on paper was not magic. Harry often wondered what Luna's motivation was in bringing so many people back with them from Earth. Looking now at the school, he began to understand. Either Luna foresaw the need for education, or the Force itself guided her. Mar Lomet's third natively crafted machine was not a harvester or thresher, but one which made paper.

They taught in English simply because the Goa'uld language for science or mathematics was clunky, given the fact that almost all their science was stolen from the Ancients, like the technology itself.

The Byrsa social revolution truly kicked into high gear when they saw that Kisher Lomet's harvester could do the work of five hundred men in a day. When he announced plans for a threshing machine, several Byrsa women actually fainted.

Ernest, Kisher and Melburn even managed to rig up a primitive AC power generator that powered a handful of large street lamps around the gate plaza.

And now, in just a few hours, Harry would be taking a unit of Byrsa men off planet for the first time in the history of their community not as slaves, but as soldiers to fight against a Goa'uld monster and save a village of little girls. He sighed and made his way toward the gate.

As the sun set, fifty nervous but excited Byrsa men marched in a close semblance of order into the plaza. Many of the young women came out to see them off. None wore anything approximating a uniform, but the very fashion of the Byrsa itself served as a common element. Each man carried a staff weapon and a zat gun on a rope belt around their waist, but did not carry armor. Harry did not train them to fight like Jaffa, in traditional firing lines.

His men were trained to fight like soldiers.

Bra'tac and An'hur came with them, and like their men did not bother with armor. Ishta arrived a few minutes later with Hermione at her side. Though Ishta had become attached to Luna, Hermione was the one who had her own kara'kesh, and so was able to perform magic as well as use the Force. That made her the more effective weapon.

When the forces had gathered, Harry stepped before the gate to face his men.

"We are going to save the lives of young girls condemned to death by a cruel and insane god," he told the small force. "We will only engage the enemy where absolutely necessary to accomplish this task. I know all of you are brave, but today I want you to fight smart as well. It is a heavily wooded world—use the natural cover. If you see Moloc himself, leave him to me or my wife. I want you all to come home safe. Men of Byrsa, are you ready to begin fighting for your future?"

Fifty men roaring their assent was nothing like the legions of storm troopers Harry commanded in another life. They were nothing like the division of armed soldiers he maintained in Africa to defend his energy interests there. And yet on this world, it was the greatest sound humanity had ever made.

Harry turned to Ishta and said, "Dial the gate."

With a nod, Ishta quickly entered the address of her sanctuary. Harry stepped through first, confident he had the best chance of securing a foothold for his men if in fact they encountered immediate resistance.

After the initial disorientation of moving to a new world passed, Harry reached out his senses to the ring of forest that surrounded the clearing around the gate. The trees looked tropical—lush and tall with near impenetrable underbrush. He could not see a single obvious path, nor any sign of humanity.

In the Force, however, he felt eyes watching him with ill intent.

Ishta and Bra'tac each stepped through, followed by two columns of twenty five men. Teal'c, An'hur and Hermione brought up the rear. "We're being watched," Hermione said immediately.

"Teal'c, An'hur, break into squads and secure the woods," Harry ordered. The two Jaffa motioned for their respective columns and jogged at a quick pace to opposite points in the woods. When they had disappeared into the undergrowth, he turned to Ishta.

"Lead the way."

They followed the narrow footpath that cut its way through the clearing around the gate until they came to a rocky area a few meters from the tree line. Abruptly Ishta veered away from the path, staying on rocks that would not betray her steps, until she reached a particularly dense area of underbrush. With a glance back at them, she reached blindly into the bush and pulled. Abruptly, the spongy branches of the thick brush lifted up like a curtain to reveal a path beyond.

"Clever," Harry admitted. He, Hermione and Bra'tac fell in behind the former priestess as she led them through the narrow, twisting footpath. He winced a little at the trouble Teal'c and Anhur would have trying to move through this forest with their men. After ten minutes of walking, they heard fast-moving water and soon were walking parallel to a river. Ahead, resting on the banks of that river, they could see the Hak'tyl encampment.

Harry's first impression was one of crushing poverty. This is what it meant to leave the service of the Goa'uld. He saw girls in age from three to thirteen dressed in rags or filthy furs, all of them muddy from their day's tasks. Beyond the mud and rags, though, he sensed an oppressive hunger that sunk the cheeks of every child there. He saw a thin, wilting garden on one side of the village, with a few lines of drying fish near the water, but it was obvious that the Hak'tyl had just barely been surviving.

"My God, look at them," Hermione whispered. Her eyes watered at the sight.

"I must speak to them," Ishta said as she went forward.

Some of the children saw her and started calling her name. The call caught on through the whole camp and soon nearly four dozen girls, the oldest barely a teen, congregated around her. All looked hungry.

"This would be a good time for the bad guys to attack," Hermione noted quietly.

"I agree," Harry said. "Bra'tac, get ready. It feels like Moloc is about to spring his trap."

The old Jaffa nodded and slowly started making his way toward one of the primitive, lean-to shelters while Hermione and Harry walked toward the grouping of children. "They'll attack from the far side of the camp," Harry whispered to Hermione. "Likely with staffs blazing."

Hermione bit her lower lip. "They won't be going for survivors?"

"Maybe a few, but only to make Ishta suffer more for having to watch them die," Harry predicted. "Get in there and shield them as best you can, I'll jump to the attack after they show themselves. Hopefully An'hur and Teal'c will be converging on us shortly."

Whatever else could be said for Harry, he had an uncanny head for tactics. Hermione hastened her way into the group of filthy, starving girls, and because she was a woman they did not immediately shy away. Some looked at her _kara'kesh_ in alarm, but when Ishta greeted her calmly they relaxed.

That lasted only until half a dozen Jaffa in heavy armor burst from the undergrowth a few feet from the village with their staffs firing wildly. The children screamed, but Hermione had already used the hand device to conjure her most powerful shield. It reflected the few shots that actually were on target.

Then the battle changed as Harry took a running leap that carried him over the whole encampment. He landed in a roll that terminated with one of his lightsabers impaling a Jaffa almost to the hilt. Rather than pull the sword out, Harry slashed it free sideways, tripling the damage and ensuring the Jaffa's quick death. Before the first fell, a second lost his head while a third was stumbling back from a powerful kick.

All around the encampment, the forest came alive with the sound of staff fire as Harry's small force engaged Moloc's Jaffa. Some of the younger children cried, but the older ones were smart enough to realize a lot was happening they couldn't see or understand. Hermione, noting that Harry had the first attackers under control, turned to Ishta. "Back to the gate. Don't grab anything, just go!"

Ishta did grab two things—two of the younger girls, one in each arm. Hermione leaned down to grab another toddler, while shouting to the older girls to take care of the younger. "Run! Go, go!"

Behind them, Harry threw the last Jaffa with the Force across the river, snapping the man's back against a distant tree. He turned and saw that Bra'tac had joined Hermione and Ishta in carrying a terrified child in one hand, while with the other he still managed to get off several shots at vague armored shapes in the trees.

As he ran over, Harry's mind raced. It was obvious that Moloc predicted Ishta's actions perfectly. He knew she would return to the sanctuary because of the girls, and so rather than destroy it all, he patiently set a trap and waited for over a day until she came. It told Harry that the Goa'uld was vicious but also cunning. As he ran through the hastily abandoned camp, he tried to think of what a patient, viciously cunning monster would do to ensure things went his way.

The answer, of course, was obvious.

Harry surged forward, moving faster than any human could move, until he reached the terrified girls. "Moloc's going to have the gate guarded," he told Hermione.

She merely nodded—either the idea had come to her as well, or she just accepted that Harry was right. "What do we do?"

"Remember Tolkien's _Two Towers?_ "

Hermione's eyes widened. "I love you, Harry."

He laughed. "Prove it. Make a tree ent!"

Hermione slowed and handed the weeping girl in her arms to another. They continued along the path, but quieted at Harry's signal. He sensed more than heard Teal'c and An'hur bringing up the rear. They had taken casualties, but they were few considering it was their first ever engagement with a more heavily armored force.

The girls looked frightened as the Byrsa soldiers emerged from the trees onto the path, accompanied by the two physically imposing Jaffa. "Report," Harry heard Bra'tac say.

"They fought well," Teal'c said. "I lost two men, An'hur another three. But our tactics worked—we killed easily thirty of the enemy for our five lost."

Harry, though, was concentrating on his wife as she crept up beside him. Through the bushes, they could see a large force of Jaffa with several portable staff cannons set up in a wide perimeter around the gate. Right in the middle of the formation stood Moloc himself.

The Goa'uld looked like a young, handsome man of Mediterranean descent. His armor gleamed golden under the scattered sunlight. His face, as he looked toward the trees, beamed with a beatific smile, as if he were a saint come to bless the ragged, starving children gathered behind Harry.

Harry turned to Hermione who closed her eyes, placed her _kara'kesh_ against the bark of one of the huge tropical trees, and pushed magic into it. Harry merged into her mind and watched as she shaped the magic silently to her will, demonstrating a mastery of transfiguration Harry never had. He could blow a tree up easily, but transfiguring it on the fly to an ent took her mind and skill

But once she taught him, though, he could duplicate it easily enough. He turned, winked at the curious, silent Jaffa and human watchers, and did the same thing to nearby tree. The couple repeated their actions, one after the other, until they'd transfigured twenty of the trees. Once they returned to the silent, worried group, Harry grinned. "Watch this," he said to Bra'tac.

All around them, the twenty charmed trees began to stir. Ishta had to cover a few mouths to keep the younger girls from screaming as the trees suddenly rose, their massive trunks splitting into legs. They suddenly rushed forward, the wood moaning with each step, toward the gaping, terrified Jaffa gathered around the gate.

Moloc lost his beatific smile and staggered back as if struck, while around him his Jaffa opened fire. One of the massive trees stumbled as staff cannon fire blew it apart. Still, with such long strides the trees covered the distance quickly, and only three more were destroyed before they reached the line of Jaffa.

"Bra'tac, form a defensive line around the girls and get them moving," Harry ordered. "Hermione, with me. We'll be at the gate."

The two disapparated away, knowing it would throw Ishta and some of the Byrsa into confusion. But they apparated directly in front of the gate just as Moloc himself was frantically trying to dial an address to escape the strange attack.

He looked up at the two of them with glowing white eyes, and then demonstrated that Goa'uld truly were more than human. He rolled left and lashed out with his own Kara'kesh in a blow that sent Hermione stumbling. Harry spun away from the blow and responded with a burst of Force lightening.

Another flick of his wrist, almost as if he were a wizard, and the Goa'uld summoned a shield that somehow deflected what should have been a lethal blow.

"Harry, stop playing with your food and just kill the monster!" Hermione cried from where she picked herself up.

With that encouragement, Harry blasted out not with lightning, but a powerful Force-push. Somehow Moloc set his feet, and with his hand device absorbed the blow. He then lashed out with his own kinetic attack, almost as if he were a Sith. He was just as fast as a Force-user, somehow accelerating the reflexes of his host body.

Moloc, Harry realized, was both ancient and powerful. Insane, yes, but powerful nonetheless. And with his Kara'kash had had a weapon that put him near on par with a typical Force user.

Harry, however, was not a typical Force user. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

He couldn't remember the last time he used the killing curse, but now, as then, it remained unblockable. Moloc's jaw gaped as the green soul curse passed through his energy shield as if it were nothing, and slammed into his chest.

He staggered back, hands clutching his chest, and then fell over stiffly. Beyond, the tree ents were finishing up the terrified, fleeing Jaffa. Those that ran made easy pickings for Teal'c and An'hur's men, until finally the transfiguration came to an end and the giant trees resumed their normal shape and toppled to the ground with loud crashes.

Harry signaled for the refugees to approach the gate while Hermione knelt over the fallen Goa'uld to remove Moloc's kara'kesh for Luna. "Bra'tac, take us back," Harry said.

Before the old Jaffa could respond, Hermione screamed. It was such an unusual occurrence that Harry froze for a moment before spinning about to see Moloc clutching her hand. Only, the creature had already paled with death and stared with unseeing eyes as it clutched at her hand. The scream was not one of fear, so much, as just being startled.

"Let go of me!" Hermione growled. The blast of energy from her own hand device defied definition, but there was no doubt of its power as it blasted away the cadaver's chest entirely and sent the body bouncing across the field away from her in three separate pieces.

Nothing remained but the stolen golden hand ribbon clutched in her left hand. She took a deep breath to collect herself, then stood and looked back at the stunned watches. "I don't like Goa'uld," she declared.

"So I see, Lady," Bra'tac said with a bow from the waist. "I say this day has been a great success, Akai'kheb."

"Luna will be happy to have her own ribbon device," Hermione agreed as she joined them.

Harry, though, took a moment to look back over the Byrsa men. They were flushed with victory, but he also saw that some were shaken over their losses. Statistically, it was an overwhelming victory, but for such small society ever death hurt.

"You men have made me proud," Harry told them. "I know you have lost friends. Rest assured they walk on Kheb now with all those who came before you."

Harry didn't believe a word about Kheb, but he could see how his words bolstered the men—they straightened sloping shoulders and nodded their agreement. Only then did he turn to Bra'tac. "Take us home, Master Bra'tac."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

On the third day after Moloc's death, Hermione stood in the back of a class watching Claire Jackson teaching the English Alphabet to a room of fifty three deeply traumatized, undernourished, frightened female Jaffa.

Claire's open, friendly smile and gentle tone went a long way toward assuring the younger girls, but the older ones appeared to sit in stony silence, as if they distrusted both their teacher and everything around them.

Beside Hermione, Ishta looked at the crude blackboard with interest. "And this is the language of the Tau'ri?"

"Yes," Hermione said. Both spoke softly, so as not to distract from Claire's lesson.

"Why do you not teach in the language of the Goa'uld?"

Hermione knew Harry's reasons—he wanted to craft a completely separate culture from that cultivated by the Goa'uld, and knew language was the best way to start that process. For Hermione, though, it was even simpler.

"Goa'uld is the language of slavery," she said softly. "Among the Tau'ri who speak our language, freedom is valued above all else. We have fought wars against those who would oppress us. Tau'ri, then, is the language of freedom, and we wish as many to learn it as can."

Ishta nodded thoughtfully. "Your husband and you have the power of the gods. The Byrsa name him Akai'kheb and do his every bidding. He has even led them into war, and shed their blood, just as their old master might have. And now he directs the children to learn a language not their own, but his. How is your rule different than that of the Goa'uld?"

The question sparked a kernel of anger in Hermione, especially given that those Byrsa who bled did so to save Ishta's very people. But after a moment, she crushed the anger as she considered Ishta's question, and the perspective beyond it. Like Bra'tac, Ishta was a true _shol'va_ , a heretic who did not deny the existence or power of her gods, but knowingly challenged them anyway. Even having seen Hermione's and Harry's power, Hermione realized this woman would not knowingly accept any god over her or her people again.

"Walk with me?" Hermione made sure to phrase it as a request, not an order. For some reason, she wanted Ishta's support. The woman was a born leader, and Hermione could not help but respect that native talent.

Graciously, the former high priestess nodded and the two left the school and walked into the street of the growing town. In the distance, she could see Ernest Littlefield, his wife Catherine, and Melburn Jackson standing around a crude wooden table with a group of Byrsa men as they continued to work on the town's Roman-style sewage system, since for the Byrsa it was a school holiday. The Byrsa did not have the mining abilities or metallurgical skill for large-scale pipe networks, and so they were using Roman cement to pipe water in from the nearest river, and then out again with their sewage. It was Melburn who was working on a primitive but effective treatment plant to reduce some of the impact down river.

It would have been a huge project in excavation alone if Harry didn't magically gouge out trenches whenever asked.

The Byrsa themselves had changed since they first arrived—they wore more colorful fabrics now, influenced by the Lomet wives and their brightly colored clothing. And in a far away field, barely visible, Hermione could see a mechanical harvester being dragged by the large moose-like creatures the Byrsa had domesticated. They were not powered, but the mechanisms still saved hundreds of man-hours.

"When Luna, Harry and I first arrived, the Byrsa hid in caves," Hermione said softly. "They gave a quarter of their crops and the most beautiful of their women and men to Apophis as sacrifices. They didn't know how to read or write, and lived in constant fear. They offered us up as sacrifices."

"Such is the role of humans in the worlds of the System Lords," Ishta pointed out.

"Just like it is the role of the High Priestess to do as her god requires?"

"Just so," Ishta said with a nod.

They stopped on the edge of the town, near a small trading shop. Fields stretched out from there, with long stalks of grains or bushes of tago beans swaying in the late afternoon breeze.

"You ask how we're different than the Goa'uld?" Hermione asked. She turned and pointed back to the town itself. "This is how. These people don't cower in fear of us. They have a say in their own futures. Harry didn't order anyone to join his small force. Every one of them volunteered. The people will get to choose their own leaders by voting—men and women alike. They have power for the first time—that is what sets us apart."

"And if they vote for you to leave?" Ishta asked.

Hermione smiled wryly. "I suppose then we will leave. But consider this, Ishta. We truly do have a power we've not encountered anywhere else yet. Luna _can_ see the future. All of us can sense danger and consequence of actions. This does not make us perfect, nor does it make us gods, but it does make us very useful."

Ishta looked over Hermione's shoulder, causing the shorter woman to turn and watch as Harry ran lightly along with a column of over a hundred Byrsa men. "Your man would give up his power so easily?"

Harry watched as Harry had the two lines break up and face each other. An'hur and Teal'c followed later, and with their help Harry began drilling the men on hand-to-hand.

"No, if he were on his own, probably not," Hermione admitted. "He could out-evil a Goa'uld if he were alone. But he's not, Ishta. Luna and I both married him precisely to help him keep that darkness inside. And that, at the end of the day, is what makes him different. Even if he doesn't care for anything else, he cares enough about his family to be the man we want him to be."


	18. The Art of the Steal

A/N: Chap 17 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: The Art of the Steal**

One week later, Harry and Ishta stepped through the Stargate onto Moloc's world, each hidden under a _disillusionment_ charm. He led her by the hand not out of any warm feelings, but simply because she would not have been able to see him to follow otherwise. As soon as they emerged, he pulled her close and disapparated fifteen feet forward seconds before several staff weapons fired into the event horizon of the gate. The shimmering surface dissolved away quickly, leaving a handful of confused Jaffa behind.

Harry noticed immediately that the Jaffa did not wear the sign of Moloc on their heads, but another symbol he did not recognize. Now that they were past the immediate threat, Harry studied this new world. The gate rested in the center of an open air plaza with paving stones across the grounds, surrounded by thick, eastern-style rounded columns and a ring of capstones that left the center and spaces between the monoliths open. Beyond, Harry could see low structures of a nearby town. The columns were all brightly painted with scenes of war and flame, though many of these scenes bore scorch marks.

What really caught his attention, though, were the bodies scattered haphazardly across the paving stones. Many were in armor, but he also saw many who were not—women and children alike.

The Goa'uld vultures had descended upon the carcass of Moloc's empire and were fighting viciously for it, just as Ishta and Bra'tac had predicted.

He tugged at Ishta's hand and she followed him. He had to admit the woman was well trained—she moved as quietly as he did and did not hesitate when the situation called for action. They left the circle of upright monoliths that protected the gate and entered an open field that separated it from the town. To his left, across what looked like a square-mile parade ground, he saw two ziggurats rising high above the small community—one was capped with a burning, smoldering ha'tak. Staring at the pyramidal capital ship from the ground, Harry found himself momentarily awestruck by its size. The Empire built larger, but not often were such ships found in atmospheres.

As he looked across the field, an al'kesh came screaming overhead and fired staff cannons into a position near the already destroyed ha'tak. The ground forces scattered but fired back at the bomber as it flew by.

They reached the outskirts of the town after mere minutes and heard more fighting in the streets, as well as screams. As the two moved deeper into the streets, he could now see various Jaffa fighting, using their staffs as melee weapons instead of as range weapons. Though they fought with skill and strength, it seemed an incredibly stupid way to fight. Why use your guns to punch your opponent instead of shoot him?

His opinion was supported by yet a different group of Jaffa who rounded the corner of a burned-out wooden building and immediately began firing their staff weapons into the other two groups of combatants.

"Is it like this every time a Goa'uld dies?"

"Yes," Ishta said. Both kept their voices low. "Goa'uld do not die often. Plus Moloc was wealthy—as are all System Lords. The fact he had few Jaffa made his wealth attainable for those left in his wake."

Though he knew she could not see, Harry had to shake his head at the waste of it all. "Lead the way."

She kept a firm, dry grip on his hand as she surged forward. This time he followed her through the narrow streets filled with refuse and debris. More than once they had to climb over shattered buildings, and once were forced to climb over bodies as well. It reminded Harry of one of Luna's many visions of bloodshed when they were younger.

It took half an hour of walking through the shattered, mostly deserted town before they reached the trail that Ishta told him about during their planning session for this excursion. He let the _disillusionment_ charm collapse and instead cast strong _notice-me-not_ charms on each of them. It allowed them both to let go of their hands and move much more efficiently.

Moloc's town and stronghold rested in a long, wide valley basin surrounded by what looked like a plateau on one side and a distant range of mountains on the other. A sizable river ran through the middle of the town, and they had to cross three bridges over tributaries on the path. Most of the land appeared to be heavily forested with leafy trees of a type Harry could not identify. Finally, they reached one of the foothills of the plateau, and dug into the side of that hill he saw a mine entrance.

The land around the mine was cleared but muddy with recent rain. Rail tracks ran out of the mine with large, roughly-made wooden cars filled with a dark mineral. To the left of the entrance Harry spotted several large corrals, each filled with several hundred people. Most appeared to be human, but he saw a few Jaffa mixed in, judging by their foreheads. Even more were trudging in and out of the mine tiredly, watched by dozens of armored, armed Jaffa.

"No matter how fierce the fighting, none of the other Goa'uld will dare interrupt the mining," Ishta explained as she and Harry squatted down in the mud to study the situation. "Ra has ultimate control over this world, and if his quota is not met, he will punish all Goa'uld involved accordingly."

"Really?" Harry asked, his mind racing. "Why are there Jaffa mixed with the captured humans?"

"Until ownership of the world is decided, all those who do not fight are counted as slaves," Ishta said, frowning intensely. "Those who will not fight are female Jaffa with children below the age of Prata. All the warriors will have either been killed, or will have joined another Goa'uld. Once ownership is determined, the female Jaffa and their children will be separated out from the human slaves and given to any Jaffa warriors who want them."

"What if they already have a mate?"

"Irrelevant," she said in a flat tone.

Harry wanted that mine. He wanted the cortosis, which the Goa'uld called naquedah, just to experiment with it. It was notoriously hard to refine in the Empire, so whatever techniques the Goa'uld used must have been highly specialized. He wanted the world, in fact, but he knew he couldn't keep it. It didn't matter how powerful he was personally if he had no space defense.

But if he couldn't have it himself, he could make damned sure no one else got it. "Would they come with us, do you think?"

He turned when Ishta did not immediately answer, and saw she was studying the many corrals. "Moloc was a twisted and evil god," she finally said after a few seconds of deep pondering. "His perversions knew no limit, as almost all the females on this world could tell you. He is called the Defiler because it was against his law for any female to lose her virginity to any but he or his appointed servants. Any who betrayed this law were crucified."

"Which means you…"

"He favored me," she said darkly. "But for all his darkness, he was still the god of this world. And even when one's god is dark, losing him is a blow. Those people mourn Moloc's passing and feel their lives are forfeit. There is a reason why the Hak'tyl were so few. It is why so few Jaffa are needed to guard so many. The many are defeated and without hope."

"So, if I were to walk up to that mine and kill all their guards and give them a means of escape, they would choose to stay?"

"It is possible, yes."

Harry frowned at the idiocy of that—not because he doubted her, but because he believed her. The Goa'uld were insidious and intelligent, whatever their failings. By making their rule not just a tyranny, but a religion, they ensured a level of obedience only religious fanaticism could account for. "What if the guards themselves ordered the slaves to the gate?"

"The slaves would obey. But the guards would never order such a thing as it is against the law of the System Lords. If one, even a First Prime, were to order such the other Jaffa would be obligated to challenge him or at least seek confirmation."

Even as she spoke, Harry's practiced eyes were picking out the various guards. Without any type of wards to stop him, he would be able to apparate without limit, so mobility would not be an issue. "Ishta, I need you to make a decision," he finally said. "And it is your decision to make."

"And what decision is this, Har'ri Potter?" she asked, unconsciously echoing Bra'tac's unique pronunciation of his name.

He turned and looked at her and let a little of his magic shimmer in his eyes. "The Byrsa call me Akai'kheb. I don't know if I am the Bridge to Heaven they think I am, but I _am_ powerful. And I mean to destroy the Goa'uld. Those who fight with me _will_ be free. If you want to fight with me, Ishta, decide now."

"And if I decide not to?"

"Then we go back, those people continue their lives as slaves, and you and your followers will be free to go where you will."

Ishta bowed her head for a moment before she looked back up at the corrals. Her face betrayed no emotion, but in the Force he could feel her feelings burn. "You ask me to trade one dark god for another."

Harry snorted. "I don't require your faith or your sex, Istha. Just your obedience when I need it. I don't need or want to be a god. But I _am_ a leader, and I _must_ lead. The choice to follow is yours. I don't want slaves."

It was not fair, Harry knew that. Ishta had left a god she truly did believe in to save lives. She would sacrifice her body and soul without hesitation—he knew that as well. So it was not fair of him to put her freedom from service against the lives of all those people. Hermione had said she wanted Ishta to have a buy-in to their goals, short term and long.

Harry, though, just wanted a strong warrior. Ishta was such a warrior. She finally bowed her head, letting her long blonde hair fall over her shoulder. "Very well, Akai'kheb," she said softly. "What are your orders?"

He knew it was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. Her strength is what made it so hard for her. "No one will notice you until you touch them," he told her. "Go into those corrals and get the people ready to move. Convince them. Cajole them. Do and say whatever you must to get as many to come as you can. You have two hours."

"And you?"

"I'm going to get ready to move them."

She met his gaze squarely before nodding. "How shall I know when it is time?"

"When the guards begin to die."

With one more nod, she stood and began making her way silently toward the corrals. Harry, meanwhile, _disillusioned_ himself again and began running quickly back into the town. The fighting within the town appeared to be just as fierce as when they left—the death toll was utterly ridiculous. He now saw four separate symbols on the heads of the various Jaffa, dead or alive, as the scavengers continued to pick over the body of the dead Goa'uld's empire. Given his invisibility, it was easy enough for him to avoid the combatants.

When he had a clear line of sight to the ziggurats, he apparated to the top of the one not occupied by a burning ha'tak. He immediately had to squat down as a pair of hulking al'kesh bombers flew by directly overhead and pelted a position of Jaffa warriors with bombs. With the new perspective, he quickly began scanning the horizon until he spotted not one, but four separate staging areas around the town. The invading Goa'uld each had their own encampment where they landed troops.

What surprised Harry, though, was the variety in the sizes of the al'kesh. Some were barely 35 meters, while others hulked close to a hundred meters in length. Each disgorged hundreds of Jaffa warriors as the battle to secure the planet intensified.

"That will work," Harry whispered.

He disappeared from the ziggurat and appeared in the smallest of the four staging areas that contained two medium-sized al'kesh of close to seventy meters in length each. Around him, Jaffa warriors marched to battle, some as young as their teens, but very few as old as Bra'tac. All wore stern, resolute expressions. However, the air boiled with tension and fear. These were not mindless drones marching off to die happily for their gods.

For a moment, Harry felt for them. They were about to die in a battle in which they had nothing to gain, with no hope for a victory or peace. They would fight and fight until they died.

He shook himself from his momentary melancholy and made his way silently through the staging area, past hastily thrown-together tents and piles of supplies. He noted with interest a Jaffa with a gold symbol on his head speaking to a floating gray sphere that responded in kind.

 _Communications is going to be an issue,_ Harry thought to himself.

The thought was still echoing in his mind when the staff head struck him in the temple. There was no warning in the Force; there was no possible move even he could have made as the heavy, blunt instrument slammed into his head. Any other human would have died on the spot from a crushed skull. Harry's magic responded instinctively to lessen the blow, but not even he could take such a strike standing.

He crumpled to the ground, all consciousness lost.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Harry woke to agony ripping through his body with astonishing power. The pain eased after a few seconds, leaving him gasping desperately for breath. He recognized some type of nerve induction just from his own experiences being tortured at the hands of his old master. The knowledge did nothing for the pain.

" **He wakes.** "

The reverberating voice of a Goa'uld forced Harry out of his jumbled thoughts. With effort, he forced his eyes to focus on his captor. He saw not a male, but a surprisingly petite woman with raven black hair and delicate features with a dark, olive-toned complexion. She wore an elaborate silver and diamond headpiece with a diamond _bindi_ between her brows. Her petite frame was draped in cloth woven through with silver and titanium, but which oddly left her mid-section bare to reveal a well-toned abdomen.

She smiled at him, the same way a hunter smiled at captured pray. **"I know what you are. Your blood tells me everything. You are hok'tar."**

Harry said nothing, eyeing her hand device intently for any sign of her activating whatever type of nerve induction he was strapped to. He felt immensely heavy, as if he were lying at the bottom of an intense gravity well, despite being upright. The Goa'uld paced just feet away from him, studying him hungrily.

" **Ra himself has put a death sentence on your kind. I would be rewarded with millions of slaves and dozens of worlds if I were to hand you over.** "

"But you won't do that," Harry said.

It did not surprise him when the pain came this time. He ground his teeth and tried his best to distance his consciousness from the pain. Nerve induction could not be fought, not physically. **"I did not give you permission to speak!"**

The worst part of it was that the nerve induction flared every synapse in his body, preventing him from harnessing either his magic or the Force. Right then and there, he was truly helpless for the first time in years.

She stopped her pacing and stared at him with dark, ancient eyes. " **How did your kind survive Ra's purge? I helped him develop the biological agent which wiped your kind out**."

 _This creature was there, thousands of years ago?_ It both astonished and horrified Harry that the beautiful creature before him could be so old. Like Moloc, she was ancient, and he had no doubt in her own way she was powerful as well. At that moment, she was vastly more powerful than him. Struggling even to form thoughts, much less words, Harry concentrated all his will on what she wanted to hear.

"Lord Ra kept my ancestors apart."

" **For what purpose?** "

"To serve him."

Those dark eyes narrowed as she studied his face. " **It is not possible to lie to me, not on the pain-giver. Why are you here?"**

"Lord Ra seeks to know which of his underlings killed Moloc."

The Goa'uld woman spun away. " **Of course. The story of a mere human killing Moloc is nonsense. In the meantime I…"** She paused mid-step as a terrible thought occurred to her. She spun around to face Harry. " **If you truly serve Lord Ra, then you cannot live. If I know his secret, he will surely destroy me. I will just have to learn your secrets from your body.** "

"The Eye of Ra sees all," Harry whispered, realizing that his life was truly and immediately in danger. He had no Philosopher's Stone in his body to aid his healing, only his magic. And with the Nerve Induction, not even that was working. "Mine are his eyes. Mine are his ears. Lord Ra sees and hears all that I see and hear."

She froze, her expression blank. But in her dark eyes, Harry saw concern. Not fear, perhaps, but concern. " **And is yours the mouth of Ra?"**

If Harry had even a touch of magic, he would have said yes and faked a Goa'uld voice. However, even that was beyond him at the moment. "No."

Her eyes narrowed at his hesitation. " **You're lying. Somehow, you are lying. It should not be possible, not even for a hok'tar. I have studied your kind in the past, before Lord Ra purged you. You do not serve Lord Ra at all, do you?"**

A streak of blue light struck the ancient Goa'uld in the back, dropping her instantly. Harry turned his head in time to see Ishta step into the tent with a Zat'nik'tel in hand. "So the great Har'ri Potter is not all powerful," she noted.

"Especially not when he's careless," Harry said dryly. "I'm not even sure how they found me."

Ishta pointed to his Byrsa-made boots. He glanced down and saw they were caked in mud. "Footprints," he muttered in disgust.

"The Goa'uld are ancient and powerful," Ishta said. She continued to stand, staring at him, and Harry abruptly realized that her freeing him was not a sure thing.

"I may be powerful, but I am not ancient," Harry admitted. "My wives and I made mistakes on our own world, and it cost us terribly. The empire we built crumbled around us and those we trusted betrayed us. Even one I loved like a father. It was a bitter lesson."

Ishta stepped closer, the Zat clutched tightly in her hand. "And what did you learn from this lesson, Har'ri Potter?"

"That no matter how much power I have, I'm not a god," Harry told her intently.

"They will worship you as one," she predicted. "Already the Byrsa worship you. Even Bra'tac worships you, though he will never admit to himself that he has replaced his old gods with you. He is wise, but his emotions are too great for him to ignore complete."

"But you will never worship me," Harry said as he studied her. "I could be a god in reality. You realize that Hermione, Luna and I could very well be immortal, or long-lived enough for it not to matter, and you still wouldn't worship us."

"No."

Harry grinned tiredly. "That's why Hermione is so intent on recruiting you. In our empire on our old world, none of those who would have advised us could keep up. Our friends became followers, and their objectivism was lost in faith. But you will never lose yourself to faith. You'll always question us, and in so doing, you'll force us to question ourselves. And that's why you're going to be Hermione and Luna's Prime."

She raised an elegant brow. "Not priestess?"

"On our world, in our time, women could lead as well as men. There are some areas where Hermione and Luna are better than I am, and I let them guide me. And you will help guide them."

She gazed squarely at him for a long minute before kneeling down beside the Goa'uld and pushing a switch on her hand device.

Suddenly the weight holding Harry upright disappeared and he stumbled forward to his knees. "Can you walk?" Ishta asked.

"Not at the moment," Harry admitted. "Take her hand device, please."

She did so, and then shot the Goa'uld three times in quick succession. On the third shot, the body completely vaporized, leaving nothing but carbon scoring, much the way a Tenloss disruptor would in the Empire.

Harry settled back and started taking deep breaths and he began a mental Force cantrip. It took several long, treacherous minutes, but eventually his nervous system began to recover sufficiently for the Force and his native magic to begin healing the damage. When at last he stood, he was healed. "Will the slaves come?"

"Yes," Ishta said. "But how will you transport them?"

"I was thinking of stealing a couple of al'kesh."

Another brow rose. "Indeed. That would work, assuming you could get past the blockade."

"Can you fly one?"

"Of course."

With that, Harry cast another disillusionment charm on them both, and the two walked out of the tent. This time, he made sure to also cast feather-light charms that helped reduce their footprints in the mud. Holding her hand, he let her guide him toward one of the medium-sized al'kesh. "I'll take the other," he whispered. "We fly to the mines."

"Can you take all the guards?"

"With these? Yes."

Though Harry had never been in an al'kesh before, he seemed to know instinctively how to pilot it—perhaps another lingering gift from the failed implanting of a Goa'uld. He saw Jaffa running toward both the al'kesh and the Goa'uld's tent when the two ships suddenly rose up from the ground. A quick search found the ship's cloak, and when his craft disappeared Ishta did the same for her own ship.

They arrived at the mine just moments later, and without hesitation Harry opened fire on any Jaffa he could see and then on the mouth of the mine itself. It took only a few shots from the powerful cannons to collapse the mine entirely.

He de-cloaked when he landed, and just moments later Ishta did the same. Despite his bombardment, nearly fifty Jaffa remained alive and armed to rush toward him with the blind fury he'd come to expect. He met them with _fiendfyre._ In the corral, people screamed in terror as a dragon of flame rose up with a terrifying roar and consumed the charging Jaffa. As soon as all sign of resistance was gone, Harry struggled with the demonic fire until he controlled and then extinguished it entirely.

Ishta didn't even blink as she walked toward the corrals. "As I have said, your means of escape has arrived!" she shouted. "Any who stay will be killed, you know this. And so I give you all the choice to live under the herald of Har'ri Potter, the Akai'kheb, or to remain and die as custom requires. Choose now!"

Hesitantly at first, but then in growing numbers, people broke out of the flimsy corral and began walking toward the two al'kesh. Soon it became lines of hundreds, mostly human but with a few older female Jaffa and their sons. Harry noticed darkly that there were no Jaffa girls at all in the crowd.

"We must hurry, Akai'kheb," Ishta called. "Word of this has no doubt reached the Goa'uld in orbit."

"Right, let's go."

The two al'kesh were packed so tightly people only had room to stand. Harry pushed his way through to the cockpit and in moments the ship was airborne. Ishta's face appeared in a spherical inset in the control panel. "We must go first to Hak'tyl before going further. I have sent you the coordinates."

Harry looked down and saw indeed that the coordinates appeared in the ship's navigational array. Despite the size of the ship and its heavy payload, Harry felt astounded at how smoothly it flew through the atmosphere of Moloc's world. However, before they even cleared the atmosphere, a swarm of at least a dozen Goa'uld death gliders descended on them.

"Hang on!" Harry shouted over his shoulder as he began to veer in anticipation of the incoming shots. "Ishta, how soon until we can go to hyperspace?"

"We must clear atmosphere or the friction will destroy us," she responded.

Harry gritted his teeth against the pounding of the staff cannons against the shield. People screamed behind as sparks flew from failing systems. After the fourth shot, he lost his cloak, but in doing so he provided a shield for Ishta's ship.

In the sudden darkness, he could see five ha'tak's descending toward them from a higher orbit. Another blast rocked the al'kesh from behind, but he knew with a grin it was too late. He hit the hyperspace key just as he saw Ishta's craft disappear in a burst of blue radiation.


	19. The Symbiote Situation

A/N: Chap 18 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: The Symbiote Situation**

Claire Jackson smiled in greeting as her students shuffled into the classroom, albeit a classroom large enough to hold all one hundred and forty eight of her students. Despite the number, she knew every one of them in a way she never did teaching on Earth.

For one, the students were astonishingly polite and disciplined in both their studies and their behavior. This wasn't to say they were perfect, but she rarely had to deal with troublemakers because the older Byrsa girls did it for her.

The matriarchal nature of Byrsa society became apparent in the classroom. The native intelligence and political acumen of the girls was never so apparent than when they recruited the few Jaffa boys to be their enforcers. The Jaffa youth were all, to a one, taller and physically stronger than their human peers. They did not necessarily do as well in their studies, but Claire noted with satisfaction that in return for acting as the muscle for the older Byrsa girls, they in return received tutoring. She allowed it because for one, it saved her and her husband the trouble of having to discipline the children; and two, she wasn't sure she could have stopped it if she wanted.

"Good morning, Professor Jackson!" the class said in unison when they had all sat on their benches with their lap desks. They spoke English. Ranging in age from six to sixteen, these children represented the future that Harry Potter and his family envisioned. Next door, she could hear even more students repeat the same to her husband. She knew Catherine and Ernest Littlefield had similar sized classes as well.

"Good morning," she said, also in English. At Hermione's suggestion, they called the language Khebbesh, since they wanted it to be a universal tongue whose name resonated with potential speakers. "Sondia, can you tell me what you did last night?"

The fourteen-year-old Byrsa girl stood up and smoothed her white apron. Underneath it she wore a green dress that her mother would never have permitted if not for the influence of Mulla and Suna Lomet, the two Eridu wives of Kisher Lomet, whose impact on Byrsa cuisine and fashion could not be understated.

"Last night, I helped my mother prepare our evening stew and bread, and then father played pipes and we danced in the street with Locin and many others. It was great fun." She spoke clearly, her accent noticeable but not overpowering.

"That does sound fun," Claire agreed with a smile. "Tel'gat, can you tell us what you did last night?"

Toward the back of the class, one of the Hak'tyl survivors stood up. Claire kept smiling, but inside she felt a spike of alarm at the girl's appearance. Tel'gat was roughly thirteen, if Claire remembered, and like the other Jaffa girls was an orphan. However, her mocha-colored skin appeared flushed much darker than normal, and even from across the room Claire could see a feverish dullness in her blue eyes.

"I slept," she said in clear enough English, despite only having six months of classes.

"Are you feeling unwell?" Claire asked, now truly concerned at the dry, pained tone.

Tel'gat shook her head, but one of the other Jaffa girls leaned over and hissed something in Goa'uld. Tel'gat shook her head again and started to sit, only to miss her seat and collapse to the floor.

Clair rushed forward as the other students stood in concern. "Tel'gat, sweetie?" She knelt down and felt at the girl's head—she was definitely feverish, and her skin beaded with droplets of perspiration. Clair looked to her friend, Al'qet. "What's wrong?"

"We don't speak of it to outsiders," the younger girl said with a stubborn set to her jaw.

 _A Jaffa thing, then,_ Clair thought. "Will you speak of it to the Lady Luna or Hermione?"

"I have spoken with Ishta, and there is nothing to be done," Al'qet said. "She won't be coming back." With that, the girl cradled Tel'gat in her arms, and in a feat of strength no other girl her age could have accomplished, picked Tel'gat off the floor and carried her out of the classroom.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

That night, the school staff gathered in the common room of their shared house near the school to compare notes over a dinner of spiced stew, flatbread, and a slightly more distilled beer than what the Byrsa normally drank. Claire saw with a deep sense of contentment how Catherine and Ernest sat side by side, unabashedly eating off each other's fired stone plates like teenagers.

Her husband was overseeing Daniel's meal. Her baby boy was almost four now. It startled her to think that he'd spent almost half his life on an alien world.

The last member of their group was the youngest, but also the most powerful. Like Claire and Catherine, she wore a blue dress made in local fabrics and tied at the waist in an elaborately stitched garter belt presented as a gift from a Byrsa family for a healing she'd done. But unlike anyone else, she also wore a lightsaber at her hip and a Goa'uld hand device on her right hand. In fact, if Claire looked at the right angle, she could almost see the air shimmer around Hermione, like a halo. It felt almost as if they were sharing their table with a supernatural being.

Yet, she ate and laughed at Melburn's jokes and seemed to truly enjoy herself. She had demonstrated a deep, native intelligence not just with her own wide breadth of knowledge, but also in how quickly she was able to learn new things. In fact, she usually joined them two or three times a week when she wasn't off world, as she seemed to enjoy their company immensely.

"…which means trade," Hermione was telling them after laughing at one of Melburn's many jokes. "Aspiracus isn't much of a world, but Master Bra'tac assures us that's what makes it perfect. The System Lords have no need for it, and the market there allows various worlds to trade without official interference. Mar Lomet did not want to try Farber just yet because he is known there."

"What do we have to trade with?" Ernest asked.

Hermione winced. "At the moment, not much except food and lumber. Harry doesn't want to engage in large-scale mining with our population still so low. In fact, I don't think he wants to mine anything on the surface at all. He has this idea about skipping an industrial stage and going straight toward a more environmentally friendly post-industrial society with technology. Mining would be on asteroids."

"Could he do that?" Melburn asked, intrigued.

"He knows how, it's just a matter of having the right resources. Anyway, be thinking about supplies for the school or town we might need when we go next."

"Perhaps a doctor?" Claire said. "One of my students, Tel'gat, collapsed in class this morning. The other Jaffa girl wouldn't tell me what was wrong and then just carried her out. But she was feverish."

Hermione's smile faded at the news. "How old?"

"Thirteen, roughly."

"Damn. I'd hoped we would have more time."

"For what?" Clair asked.

"She's entered what the Jaffa call the Age of Prata," Hermione explained. "The Goa'uld genetically engineered the Jaffa not just to be warriors, but to be incubators for Goa'uld larva. Once a Jaffa is implanted with a larva, they can live to be hundreds of years old, but their entire immune system is dependent on the Goa'uld. If they aren't implanted, they die. And every Jaffa child goes through it."

Claire felt her jaw hanging open, and saw similar expressions around the table. "My God, that's barbaric," Catherine whispered, truly horrified. "An entire race?"

"The mortality rate is greater than fifty percent," Hermione nodded grimly. "That's one of the ways the Goa'uld kept the Jaffa population in check. It also allowed them to weed out weak or potentially undesirable Jaffa. Only the strong and obedient were implanted."

"What are we going to do?" Claire asked.

Hermione pursed her lips and frowned. "Once implanted, they'll be implanted for life. Luna and I have been trying to find out how to undo the genetic alterations, but we have to admit it's beyond our expertise. Perhaps it's like you said, Claire. We need a doctor, but one advanced enough to actually help us."

She finished her beer, wincing a little at the still bitter brew, and stood. "Thank you for telling me, Claire. I'd better go speak to Ishta. The fact she didn't mention it at our last meeting makes me fear she's given up. Thank you all for letting me join you."

With a last round of good-byes, Hermione left the kitchen. "A universe of wonder and horror," Ernest Littlefield said in summation. "But if anyone can fix it, that young woman can."

Claire could only nod and hope so, for Tel'gat's sake.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"It is our deepest law not to discuss it with outsiders," Ishta said stubbornly, arms crossed. "It is enough you know. I have already spoken of the issue with Master Bra'tac and we will conduct a raid to steal Goa'uld for implantation."

Though Ishta was now officially known as Hermione and Luna's Prime, they never shared what Hermione would consider a warm relationship. Ishta held a deep distrust for the three magicals, and the last six months had done little to change that.

Hermione looked to Bra'tac, who shrugged. "It is the way of the Jaffa, Lady Hermione," the old warrior explained. "Those of the priesthood determined who was to be implanted or not. In this, I must bow to Ishta."

Harry, who sat silent through most of the discussion at the head of the conference table in the renovated Jaffa dorms that still dominated the center of the growing town, roused himself. "So what will happen to the Jaffa when I destroy the Goa'uld?"

Hermione was watching Ishta carefully when her husband's quiet question made the former Jaffa priestess pause. Ishta frowned and looked to Bra'tac, who stood silent. "The Goa'uld have lived among the stars for tens of thousands of years. It is not possible to truly kill them all," she finally said.

Harry stood in a smooth, single motion until he stood before the former priestess. "Watch me."

Ishta blinked at the sudden, dark tone in his voice.

"They _violated_ my family," Harry continued coldly. "Apophis put his son in me, and his wife in Hermione. He ordered Luna killed. The Goa'uld raped our planet, enslaved or slaughtered our ancestors and stripped the Jaffa of even the right to be human. The Goa'uld have no redeeming qualities. They are parasites—a blight on the universe. And even if it takes me a thousand years, I am going to kill every single one of them."

He paced as he walked, hands behind his back, until he arrived at one of the windows looking out over the burgeoning town. "More importantly, this new society is going to have a distinct scarcity of new larva. The Jaffa can't survive without the Goa'uld. That enslaves your entire race to their fate. What Hermione is asking you to do is decide whether you wish you and your people to die as slaves with the Goa'uld, or seek a new future and a new hope." He never raised his voice, but rather spoke with a terrible, quiet intensity.

Slowly he turned back to face Bra'tac and Ishta. "You are the leaders of your people on this world. But in a more important sense, you are the voices of your people across the galaxy. We will abide by your decision."

"But…" Hermione began.

She paused when Luna touched her arm. "Hermione, we cannot force this," Luna said simply. "Not something this large. The Jaffa must decide on their own. And we can't even promise a solution, only that we will try to find one."

Ishta stood, arms crossed, staring intently at the floor. "My friends," Bra'tac said. "I think we must ponder this."

"I understand," Harry said simply. "You're wise, Bra'tac. You and Ishta both. I'm sure you'll make the best decision for your people. And we will abide by that decision. But when deciding, remember this—the Goa'uld days in this galaxy are numbered."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Two days later, Harry, Hermione and Ishta walked through the gate onto the world of Aspiracus. Surprisingly the sky was still mostly blue, though hazy, but the sunlight cast things on the ground in red.

"Are you going to move or not?" a rough voice asked in Goa'uld.

The trio of newcomers turned to the speaker and saw a hulking man in a thread-bare shirt standing in front of a horse-sized, quadrapedal reptile hitched to a cart filled with trade goods.

Without speaking, Harry led the way from the ramp down the gate into the dusty, filthy streets of the trading post, since it was obvious from the first glance that's what the place was. The streets were lined with two or three story stone or metal warehouses, each with a smaller office in the front that had an open wall to the street where merchants sold their goods.

The streets were crowded with such an interesting and varied set of people it felt as if they had stepped into a comic convention on Earth, or perhaps a typical street in Los Angeles. They walked quickly until they reached one particular building sandwiched in between many others with a sign in Goa'uld announcing **FRESH PRODUCE!**

Inside the shop, which could only be compared with a corner market on earth, were three rows of Byrsa-grown food—nuts, berries and milled wheat, as well as one row of meat. Near the front door were three aisles where the Lomet family did business.

While Kisher remained on Cartego, his two wives and daughters ably ran the Cartego trading post on Aspiracus, with the aid of a few of Bra'tac's better-trained Byrsa soldiers to act as bouncers and security. The two girls—Lira and Loris, stood with Lira's mother at the registers doing a brisk business.

Suna, Loris' mother, saw them from the back where she was stocking and motioned them into a back office. "We are busy today," she said by way of introduction. "More business than this building or my family can handle."

"That's a good problem to have," Hermione said with a grin. "Next time you're through, pick some more helpers. We can look into either leasing or buying a larger building."

She nodded, but her eyes drifted to Ishta. "You are here because of her kind?"

Ishta bristled visibly. Harry merely nodded. "Did you or your people find what we were looking for?"

"Yes. Pascala. He is from Hebridan, a world that fought off the Goa'uld in the stars, or so the gossip goes. The Goa'uld spies watch him constantly, so you will be careful if you go to him." She reached down and shuffled through a few papers on the hastily-build wooden desk for a slip of paper. "This is his address."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "When you come back tonight, please make a list of things you need. This is our only trading post—if you think we need something, then we'll do what we can to get it."

Suna gave a curt not. "As you say, _Anu._ " She bowed, touching her chest, chin and forehead in a sign of respect. Moments later, the three newcomers once more made their way through the street.

"So, the Goa'uld have never seen a supermarket before," Hermione said aloud.

"With food such a scarcity, why would they?" Harry said. "We should let the Byrsa know they could make some additional income by trading prepared foods as well. Perhaps a roll of Kisher's spice sausage in a Byrsa flatbread."

"Harry, you're talking about a hotdog."

He shrugged. "I like hotdogs."

"I do not care for the taste of canine meat," Ishta announced.

Hermione struggled not to smile as Harry nodded. "It is an acquired taste, of course. Let's go find this Hebridan trader. Have you heard of Hebridan before?"

Ishta frowned as they walked along the side of the street. Around them, animal-drawn or even human-drawn carts lumbered by in a constant stream of supplies that kept the healthy black market going.

"Hebridan was a terrible embarrassment," Ishta said at last. "It was the domain of the Fallen Goa'uld Lamashtu, who was defeated by the alien Serrakin. For her shame, Ra ordered her to retake her world or die trying, and so she died. The Serrakin held and Lamashtu's forces were destroyed down to Lamashtu herself. The aliens there buried the gate and Ra declared the world dead to all System Lords."

"And these Serrikan fought in space?" Harry asked.

Ishta shrugged. "So it is said. It happened many generations ago, and I only know because of the lore I learned as High Priestess."

They saw the warehouse Suna directed them to but did not walk directly there. Instead, they continued on to a small bar across the street. Ishta wore a rimmed Byrsa straw had that hid her sign of Moloc, while Harry and Hermione wore simple Byrsa-woven clothes and kept their weapons in pouches.

It must have been an off hour since the interior of the bar looked nearly empty. Harry felt as if he had stepped into an old American western, complete with swinging chest-level doors. The bar itself ran the width of the back wall, while over it he saw a balcony filled with thin, starved-looking women in various states of dress talking and chewing on black sticks that Harry guessed was analogous to cigarettes or drugs.

"Girls, grub or drink?" the stereotypically burly bartender asked in Goa'uld.

"Bread and beer. Cheese if you have it," Harry ordered.

"We have a wheel just in. What coin do you have?"

Harry removed a small silver coin gained form their trading post. The burly man took it, felt it a moment, before nodding. "Have a seat."

He snapped his fingers before taking three fired ceramic kegs and pouring them beer from a car-sized keg sticking out of the walls behind him. In response to his snapping fingers, another girl rushed out, this one younger than the ones atop and actually clad in a concealing dress. She had the misfortune of resembling the man, with a very long face, large nose and an overabundance of facial hair on her chin and upper lip. The tray she brought held an entire loaf of a dark, grainy bread and a generous slice of a rich, orange cheese.

It took only a bite to realize it was a cheese produced from the Byrsa trading post up the street. The bread was not in the Byrsa style, but it wouldn't have surprised him if the grain was. The beer, however, was most definitely not Byrsa beer, or even the beer that the Jaffa drank. Instead, it tasted and looked like a deep, rich lager with a hint of fruitiness Harry loved.

"Two of those women aren't watching us at all," Hermione said over her beer in English.

Harry didn't nod or react, but reached out with his senses and felt the minds of two of the women sharply focused, while the rest were blunted with their chemical amusements. "Yes. We'll _disillusion_ before going in."

He finished eating and drinking and stood to leave. "Say, do you brew your own beer?"

The burley man nodded. "You like?"

"I do. Do you brew it here?"

He shook his head. "Nothing gets done here. You want a keg?"

"I might," Harry said. "Perhaps not right now, but I may come back to talk business."

"Right. Names Ocko."

"Harry," Harry said with a smile. No hands shook, not on the trade world. The exchange of names was enough. "Hope to see you soon."

The three of them left the bar and walked back to the Cartego trading post. Suna said nothing this time as they made their way to the back. Once in the privacy of the office, Harry cast _disillusionments_ on himself and Ishta, while Hermione fished out her hand device and did the same for herself. He then gathered all three of them and apparated them to a spot right in front of the store.

"Let's look for a back way in," Harry suggested quietly.

They walked around one side of the stand-alone warehouse until they reached a narrow entrance that looked as if it had been cut from the side with a hacksaw. The moment they stepped inside, however, they were greeted by a rush of conditioned, cooler air. The interior of the shop stood at stark contrast with the rest of the world—the floors were of obviously manufactured tile, with double-paned tinted windows that gave the office an almost earth-like feel, as if they were standing in an auto dealership. More than anything, though, it appeared despite the exterior entryway that they had entered the front of the store, as they stood in an obvious waiting area cordoned off from the rest of the building by a floor-wide desk and walls behind it.

A figure appeared from a door in the center of the back wall and Harry immediately went still. The figure was not human—in fact he was reptilian, and was the single most alien being Harry had encountered in this galaxy.

Ishta's reaction, however, was even more intense than their own. " _Serrikan!_ " she hissed, as if confronted with a particularly loathsome insect.

"Jaffa!" Pascala said, though with a rather odd, high-pitched voice and an exaggerated tone. "Humans! Dust! What other astute observations do you wish to make today?"

"You're Pascala, then?" Harry asked.

The creature made a huge, put-upon sigh: "No, I am the _other_ Serrakin on this cesspit. Of course I'm Pascala! Now what do you want?"

Harry grinned despite himself. "We want access to your hospitals. Does your home world have a system to allow off-worlders to seek medical assistance?"

It amazed him that a Reptilian could have such an expressive face—the intense frown there now, being an example. "Hebridan is closed to anyone from Goa'uld worlds. We do trade with the occasional free words, but there aren't many, and they keep to themselves. We don't even advertise our coordinates."

"I know, we looked," Harry admitted. "We represent a newly free world, but we do have a small population of Jaffa who need help."

"Did you know if a Jaffa child isn't implanted with a Goa'uld larva by adolescence, they die?" Hermione asked.

"No, and somehow I have lived my life so far perfectly content _not_ knowing that particular fact." His frown wrinkled the brown scales between his yellow eyes. "Which means you have one of those worms in your belly right now, don't you, Jaffa? And you say I'm not trustworthy?"

"Can you help us?" Harry asked.

"Personally? Not at all. I don't know anything about medicine or genetics except that my mate's genes were particularly weak, if my children are any judge. I do know my home world does have very advanced medical abilities. However, we are a capitalist society. We don't do anything for charity—what do you have to trade?"

"That depends on what your people hold of value," Harry said. They settled down for what promised to be a very long discussion.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

That night, Harry called the Executive Council in the large meeting room of the Jaffa dorm's first floor. What the Byrsa previously used as an elevated platform for their justice was now replaced by a large, oval conference table of hand-carved, smoothed and stained wood and served as the central meeting spot for Harry's young government.

Harry, Hermione and Luna sat at one hand, Hermione on the right, Luna on the left. Next to Hermione sat Ernest and Catherine Littlefield, while Bra'tac and Ishta sat on Luna's side. Rounding out the other end of the table was Kisher Lomet, and Himilco and Dessa of the Byrsa. While the young couple lacked the education or experience most of the others at the table had, Hermione had insisted someone from the Byrsa have a seat on what was in essence a Cabinet for the ruling trio.

"These coordinates are two days away," Bra'tac said. "Plus however long it will take to set up the trade. And you know you will go with them, Ishta, for the child's sake if no other."

Ishta frowned but nodded. "I do not trust the Serrikin."

"Because they defeated the Goa'uld?" Harry asked.

She shrugged, unable to give a specific reason for her distaste.

"Things are peaceful here," Kisher Lomet noted, scratching his great, scraggly beard as he did so. "And the trading post thrives."

"There are many babies," Dessa said, though hesitantly. At a table filled with alien warriors, the young Byrsa matriarch had difficulty sometimes speaking. "There have been many births. And because of the healing, more children survive than I have ever heard of."

"That's good," Luna said happily. "We love babies."

"Will you not have your own?" Dessa asked. "I would think your children would be wondrous."

Luna's smile faded somewhat, and Hermione could tell from the way Dessa blanched that she feared she'd said something insulting, though she could not have meant it. "I did not mean to speak out of turn!" she blurted.

Harry snorted. "Dessa, if there is any place to speak out of turn, it's here. We keep this door closed for these meetings precisely because we want you to be able to speak your minds. If Hermione, Luna or I do something completely atrocious, we depend on those of you in this room to tell us without fear of retribution."

"We can't have children, Dessa," Hermione explained.

"Because…because you're immortal," Catherine said. "Claire told me…"

"It was a choice," Hermione confirmed. "I wasn't sure at the time, but the choice is made. But we still love children, Dessa, and we're so very happy that we've been able to save as many as we have. And your midwives are doing much better with the training we've given them."

Dessa smiled weakly, but nodded.

"Himilco?" Harry said.

"Yes, Akai'kheb?"

"It might be best if our life expectancy is not shared with the Byrsa. Those of you around this table have earned our trust, and in the coming years the people will see for themselves that we don't age. There is no need to rush the knowledge out."

"As you say, Akai'kheb."

"So, back to the matter at hand," Luna said. "Harry, Hermione should go with you, Tel'gat and Ishta. And perhaps Tel'gat's friend as well."

"I think Melburn should go as well," Ernest said.

"Yes, that would be wise," Kisher agreed. "The man is a greater engineer than I, and would learn more from this alien world that could fight off the Goa'uld in the stars."

"Ishta?" Hermione asked. "This all depends on your agreement. Will you come?"

"I do not trust the Serrikin, but I have done far worse for my kind than associate with the enemy. I will not hesitate now. I will go with you for Tel'gat's sake. But if they cannot help…"

"We are already planning a raid," Bra'tac said calmly. "One way or the other, we will save our children."

"Then we shall go," Ishta agreed.


	20. Hebridan

A/N: Chap 19 review responses are in my forums like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty: Hebridan**

The al'kesh carried more than just Tel'gat. In fact it carried forty three girls, in ages ranging from three to thirteen, representing the whole of the surviving Hak'tyl movement. Hermione tried to select just one or two, but whether they feared Hermione and Harry or not, they absolutely refused to be separated.

Melburn Jackson took it upon himself to continue their education in the spacious hold of the cargo ship, which was designed to carry five hundred Jaffa warriors. Hermione was grateful because it kept the girls busy, rather than giving them time to think about the rather dire future they all faced.

After moving instantaneously from world to world through the gates, it felt odd to fly in a real spaceship. Sometimes, when the seat wasn't occupied by Ishta, Hermione sat in the co-pilot's seat next to Harry and stared out at the swirling blue tunnel of hyperspace. On the evening of their first day's journey, she said, "Is this what it was like, in that other galaxy you visited?"

Harry had been meditating for the most part, since the ship largely ran itself. He roused himself and glanced over at her. "Yes. The hyperspace mechanics are largely the same here, the Goa'uld are just…it pains me to admit that in some ways the technology they use is superior. In the Corusca galaxy, ships beat down the laws of physics with brute force power. But Goa'uld hyperspace is like a knife cutting through the folds of real space. This ship uses a tiny fraction of the energy a comparable-sized ship would use where I'm from. A ship this size might require a crew of a hundred to run smoothly. On the other hand, a turbo-laser cannon would do a lot more damage than their staff canons would."

She reached across the space between the two seats and he responded to take her hand without even looking. Behind them, Ishta watched quietly before turning back to the girls under her care.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Late in the second day, the al'kesh began to buck wildly. Harry, meditating in the back, rushed to the cockpit where Ishta and Hermione flew. "What's happening?"

"We're being fired on," Ishta said. "Low level ion bursts. Not enough to damage us yet, but enough to destabilize our flight path. I must take us out of hyperspace."

Without a word, Hermione stood and Harry slipped into her place. Behind them, Milburn made his way forward. "What's going on?"

Before his question was finished, the space outside the cockpit blurred into a vast field of stars, and in the distance a specular nebula. Almost immediately hidden speakers blared.

"Goa'uld vessel, you have entered restricted space. Reverse course or you will be fired upon."

Harry leaned forward, but the attacking ships were behind them, visible as blips in the Goa'uld sensor scopes. Harry activated the communicator with a flick of a finger. "This is a trade vessel from the planet Kalmah, a free world, requesting permission to approach Hebridan for medical assistance. We received a pre-certification clearance from Pascal on the planet Aspiracus."

In the pilot's seat, Ishta raised a brow at Harry's use of the Goa'uld word for "Sanctuary" as the name of Cartago.

Suddenly a Hebridan ship soared directly over their head. The craft was a bulky affair, essentially a brick with atmospheric stabilizers and thrusters wrapped around a powerful suite of fusion thrusters. But the ship also appeared to pack a pair of heavy laser cannons and a pod of six missiles on each wing that would have been more than enough to damage or destroy the al'kesh.

Silence, followed by a terse: "Hold position."

"Acknowledged. Holding position."

"What if they fire on us?" Hermione asked from behind the two pilot seats.

"Then we leave," Harry said simply. "Quickly," he added.

Minutes later, the speaker beeped. "Al'kesh ship, do you have transport rings?"

"We do."

"Then prepare to be boarded for inspection. Failure to comply will result in your immediate destruction."

"Understood," Harry said easily. "Ladies, Melburn, let's welcome our guests."

Locking the controls, Harry led Hermione, Ishta and Melburn Jackson back to the spacious hold and the rings there. The Jaffa girls all gathered in a corner, encircling the weakened Tel'gat. The girl was virtually passed out on the floor of the hold.

The rings rose up with a loud, electric hum that resolved itself in a bright flash of white light. When the light faded, a squad of three men and a woman, all human, appeared in the hold. Each of them held a carbine not so dissimilar to weapons used on Earth. One of them also held what appeared to be a scanner roughly the size of an arm with a dish at the end.

The leader of the four stepped forward, his eyes darting quickly over everyone in a frank assessment of risks. "My name is Defense Commander Jaxton. Identify yourselves."

"I am Harry Potter," Harry said, without stepping forward himself. "This is my wife Hermione, our civil engineer Melburn Jackson. Joining us is Ishta of the Jaffa, and several young Jaffa girls in need of medical assistance."

"We need to scan your ship."

"Please feel free to do so."

The female officer with the scanner proceeded to do so, running it efficiently over every interior surface. "Commander, they have twenty plasma charges in their chutes," she said after only a few minutes of scanning.

"We're an unaffiliated al'kesh flying through Goa'uld space," Harry said with a shrug. "We're a trading expedition, not cattle. We have the means and right to defend ourselves if attacked."

"And those?" Jaxton said, pointing at Harry's lightsabers.

Harry obliging lifted it and ignited the blade. "A personal defense weapon," he said. "As you can see, it is not a projectile. It does nothing more than stun." With that, he switched the blade to its training setting and tapped it against his own palm.

He deactivated it and placed it back on his belt.

"And you're pre-certification?"

Harry slowly reached into the pouch at his belt and removed a digital card roughly the size of a credit card on Earth, which he handed to the man. Jaxton took it and slipped it into a reader on his belt. The read-out appeared on a one by two-inch console strapped to his wrist. "Pascala said you had raw lumber as a possible trading item?"

Harry nodded before walking into a separate section of the hold. He opened the door to reveal stacks of lumber. "You'll want to quarantine them to make sure not to import any insects, but it was the only item we had that could hold value to your people, since you're world is not heavily forested."

Jaxton nodded to his scanner. She stepped past the two men and began running the device over the wood. "Some insect life, but nothing out of the ordinary," she said after completing the scan. "I estimate twenty metric tons."

Jaxton raised a single brow. "That's a healthy amount of lumber, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged. "I'm always open to trade possibilities."

"Very well. Please keep your ship in this position until advised otherwise," Jaxton ordered before he and his three colleagues walked back to the rings and returned to their ship.

They waited another ten minutes in the cockpit before they finally received permission to enter Hebridan space. They did so, flanked the entire time by the bulky fighter. After just a few moments more of hyperspace, they emerged within sight of a blue-green world that looked so much like Earth even Harry had to swallow past a lump in his throat.

As they approached, though, differences became obvious beyond the differently shaped continents. Hebridan's orbit bustled with ships of almost every description, while massive defense platforms and space stations orbited in a diamond pattern around the planet's equator. The planet's surface was also quickly approaching ecumenopolis stage. "You are to dock in Customs Station 23. Follow these coordinates," Jaxton's voice said over their speakers.

Harry ignored the voice as he took passive scans of the planet and its defenses. "Laser cannons," Hermione said as she poured over them scans. "They don't appear to use naquedah-based technology at all."

The station they approached was a massive dual-ring system using opposite-spinning rings to offset the gyroscopic effect. It was, however, a very large station, with a hangar in the gravity-free center large enough to handle a ship ten times the size of the al'kesh. It was into this hangar that Harry took their craft. Once inside, a hovering jitney directed them with flashing arrows to a smaller berth on the planet-side of the hangar. He gently brought the al'kesh over and set it down, not surprised to see a dozen men in dark gray uniforms flanking another figure in a bright blue dress shirt with a high, stiff collar and black slacks waiting for them under artificial gravity plating.

Harry led the way down the ramp after landing the ship and walked directly to the stiff-collared man whom he assumed was the authority in the station. "Harry Potter," he introduced himself, extending his hand with a friendly smile, one practiced over the course of his years as president and CEO of Phoenix Industries. "We appreciate you allowing us to land."

The man, whose face looked narrow and pinched under thinning blonde hair, nodded. "My name is Devan Hestite, I'm the Customs Officer for this station. I'm afraid I can't allow you planet side until the mandatory quarantine period of fifty hours, but it is likely I should be able to help you." He glanced over Harry's shoulder at where Ishta and Melburn were gathering the girls. "If you'll come with me?"

They followed Hestite into a lift that shot them far into the station, and then continued through one of the thick support spokes to an outer, rotating ring. Harry was not surprised to see their orientation had changed having switched from gravity plates to simple centrifugal gravity.

"Why not use gravity plates?" Harry asked.

Hestite paused and looked at the newcomers. "Using centrifugal force instead of gravity plating saves money," he said with a shrug.

The answer and the gesture—as if that were the only possible explanation—spoke volumes about Hebridan's culture. Harry liked it.

The ring concourse looked like a massive, curving shopping mall with almost every item conceivable for sale. They walked past a few shops and restaurants in which both humans and Serrikan mingled. In fact, Harry saw several beings who could only have been a hybrid of the two among the crowds as well. Eventually, they turned into what was clearly an administrative area. Past a dozen computer workstations, they arrived at a spacious room lined with bunk beds. He spotted showers and washrooms through the only other door.

"We regret the inconvenience of a quarantine period, but it is standard procedure for any craft arriving from Goa'uld space."

"What about Pascala's pre-certification?" Hermione asked, upset but clearly trying to control her temper.

"Madam, without that, you would have been fired upon," Hestite said. "We are routinely attacked by Jaffa forces attempting to make a name for themselves among their masters. And it is clear you arrived with Jaffa, so I'm afraid we are going to have to insist."

"I understand," Harry said quickly, before Hermione could continue the argument. It was rare for him to be the patient one, but he was reading a great deal of concern from the man because of the presence of the Jaffa women. "I told Pascala that we were here for medical reasons. One of these girls is very sick with a condition endemic with the Jaffa. We'll make no effort to leave this room, but would it be possible while here to speak with a geneticist or medical specialist? That is what the lumber in our hold was intended to pay for."

Hestite hesitate a moment before nodding. "It's a reasonable request, Mr. Potter. I'll forward it to my superiors. In the meantime, we do provide complimentary meals and drinks for you while you are here. If you require anything to eat or drink, please order it at the computer station there." He pointed to the appropriate spot before leaving.

When he left, the transparent doors slid shut behind him with a _woosh_ that made their ears pop. "Pressurization," Hermione said. _I don't sense immediate danger._

"These people are understandably cautious," Harry said, looking about the room to clearly indicate they were being listened to. "I can't say I blame them. But it would be valuable to Kalmah as a whole if we could establish a trading relationship with a technologically advanced world. They have manufacturing capabilities we won't have for decades, while we have raw materials they've run short on. Plus, any world capable of routing the Goa'uld is one I wish to be on good terms with."

"Akai'kheb," Ishta said. "Why do you call the world Kalmah?"

"One, we don't want to let any Goa'uld know where we're located; and two, I think it fits. Now, let's see what we have to eat. I'm hungry. Al'qat, how is Tel'gat? Do you think she could eat some soup?"

The Jaffa girl he addressed nodded somberly. "Yes, Akai'kheb. But little else."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

It turned out that the Hebridan doctors were just dying to get a chance not just to study a Jaffa, but the Goa'uld larva within Ishta's pouch. That fact alone was what eventually bought Harry, Hermione, Milburn and the Hak'tyl girls passage to the surface of Hebridan.

Even Hermione was impressed with the sheer scope of the planet's architecture, and Harry personally was reminded of the tall, elegant spires of Alderaan. The world was a surprisingly well-blended mix of human and Serrakin, whom he'd read were a technologically advanced species that had begun to experience such a rapid decline in their birthrates they feared total extinction within ten generations. It was this which prompted them to help the humans gain their freedom from the Goa'uld and elevate the humans technologically, for with a blending of culture and technology came also a blending of species. The Serrakin geneticists perfected a gene therapy that allowed for viable offspring between the species, creating a new, unique species that could only be called Hebridan.

They were met on the landing pad of a hospital roughly the size of Wimberley in its footprint, but which rose fifty floors above the surrounding parkland, by a Serrikan named Calis. He was flanked by two humans and a hybrid, who like him all wore red overcoats much like scientists on earth wore white lab coats. Calis looked hungrily at Ishta and the Jaffa girls, making several of them clump together in concern at what they perceived was a predatory look.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all," he said, shaking Harry's hand frantically. He did the same to Hermione and Milburn, but didn't dare tough the Jaffa. "It is such an honor! Come, we shall have a tour of the hospital before we go to the lab, yes?"

"Of course," Hermione said with a pleased smile.

Touring the hospital was like stepping back in time for Harry. Just as the world reminded Harry faintly of Alderaan, the medical facility reminded him largely of similar facilities in the Corusca Galaxy, so long destroyed it existed only as memories of his years spent there as the Emperor's failed apprentice.

The one thing the Hebridans did not have were droids. However, their medical technology was vastly superior to that of Earth, to a point where if a being was alive when entering the hospital, there was every reasonable expectation they would leave whole and relatively healthy. The genetic expertise of the Serrikin especially was astonishing but not surprising, given their research into ways to ensure their species' survival through hybridization.

Eventually, they made their way to a laboratory that was set in the base of a large amphitheater cordoned off from the seating above by tinted windows. Harry could sense many beings within as they watched with interest the forty three Jaffa girls and Ishta as they shuffled nervously into the spacious lab, which was filled with rolling beds. Harry, Hermione and Milburn sat off to one side with Calis while a host of other technicians, all in the red lab jackets, gently assisted the nervous Jaffa onto the beds.

"So, we'll need to be official here," Calis said. "These events are being recorded for liability and legal reasons. What is your official position with this world of yours, Kalmah?"

"Consider me and my family the rulers of the planet," Harry said. "We have an advisory cabinet comprised of the various societal elements on the planet. Our goal is to eventually establish a constitutional monarchy, but we lack the population to make it necessary at the moment. We accepted these Jaffa refugees because their lives were in immediate danger."

"The adult wears the sign of Moloc," Calis noted.

"Yes," Hermione admitted. "Moloc ordered all female Jaffa killed and so the adult Jaffa, named Ishta, and several of her sister priestesses attempted to smuggle the girls off-planet. She is the only adult who survived the attempt."

"And what is it that you are asking us to do?"

Hermione looked at Ishta on her bed. The former priestess was flushed red with her lips pursed, but she nodded.

"The Jaffa were genetically engineered from base human stock not just to be soldiers, but to serve as living incubators to Goa'uld," Hermione said. "At puberty, a Jaffa loses their own immune system and without a Goa'uld larva, they will sicken and die. I understand their mortality rate to be near fifty percent. It is our hope to find a means to prevent this dependency, not just for these girls, but all Jaffa."

The other researchers throughout the lab paused at that pronouncement before looking at each other and their subjects with worried expressions. Above, Harry could sense troubled thoughts as well.

Calis leaned his head to one side, obviously listening to a concealed earpiece. "Pardon me, but I've been instructed to ask why we should help the enemies of Hebridan?"

Ishta sat up from her table, causing one of the techs nearest her to back away in alarm. Harry, though, cleared his throat. "Who is your enemy?" Harry asked. "The knife thrust in your back, or the mind guiding it? The Jaffa are slaves, more so even than the humans of Hebridan were before they were liberated. With the humans, they merely needed guidance to fight back. But the Jaffa literally cannot live without their masters. If you truly wanted to limit the damage the Goa'uld could do to you, then helping us is clearly the best course of action. Free the Jaffa, and you remove the Goa'uld greatest weapon—their armies."

Calis listened again before leaving Harry and Hermione and walked directly to Ishta, who herself reared back a little from the Serrikin. "During the liberation of this planet three hundred years ago, Jaffa forces murdered almost seven hundred thousand humans and one hundred and twenty three thousand Serrikin before being defeated. Most were civilians not engaged in combat. Have you, or any of those in this room, engaged in the killing of humans either at your own behest or the behest of your god?"

"No," Ishta snapped. "I was a High Priestess, Moloc did not use priestesses for warriors. He used us as rewards for his warriors, if we were lucky."

"Finally, do you have the authority to speak for the other subjects in the room?"

"I do," she said simply.

"Very well. Do you consent to the research proposed today, which is the search for a means to prevent the Goa'uld larval dependency of your bodies?"

"I do," Ishta said, grinding the words out as if they hurt.

"Thank you," Calis said with a nod. He returned to Harry and Hermione. "Ladies, gentlemen, please begin. First, we start with gene mapping of all the participants to locate the markers causing the divergent features of Jaffa…"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Two hours later, in the viewing room of the Amphitheater, surrounded by Hebridan government officials and researchers, Calis gushed about how much he was enjoying the project. "Researchers have wondered for many centuries just how self-aware the immature larva are," the Serrikin research told Harry and Hermione. "It just seems beyond belief that all Goa'uld are born evil, so most have speculated it is an environmental factor."

"No, they're just born evil," Harry answered. "Ishta's symbiote is not only fully self-aware, it is also completely aware of its surroundings. It was born with a racial memory of the queen which spawned it and was fully sentient from the moment of its birth with all the memories of its ancestors. So the Goa'uld truly are born evil."

Calis and several politicians turned and stared. "How could you possibly know that?" the Serrikin asked.

"I live with a powerful telepath," Harry said with a grin. Behind him, Hermione rolled her eyes.

Calis, though, completely missed the humor and turned to stare back at the scanned larva. "But…but…nothing can be born evil!"

"Evil is of course a point of view," Harry pointed out. "To a Goa'uld, enslaving millions for their personal pleasure and power is perfectly reasonable, and the evil is only if humans attempt to resist. They truly do believe they are gods. After all, through their technology they are functionally immortal and are born with all the knowledge of their forebears."

"I find it interesting that you are working so hard to free the Jaffa." Harry turned to the Minister of Defense of Hebridan, a tall human with peppered black hair and a broad chin named Danis Muldon. "What do you hope to gain?"

"Short term?" Harry asked. He pointed through the window at the sedated girls. "I get to protect girls who sought sanctuary on my world. Long term? I despise slavery. I despise those who would hold others as slaves. More importantly, I despise the Goa'uld and want them eradicated. And while they hold armies of hundreds of millions of devoted fanatics, no one in this galaxy will ever defeat them. But if the Jaffa are allowed a glimpse of true freedom, there might be hope. Those girls are proof that Jaffa can choose to be free."

"And they might view one who freed them as a savior," Muldon pointed out. "And such devotion might lead to a fanaticism directed to someone else. For instance, Akai'kheb? Those girls call you a Bridge-Unto-Heaven."

"Actually, the humans we helped recover from a genocidal strike called him that," Hermione said. "I'm a little uncomfortable with it myself, but the population we saved was illiterate and purposely held down by the Goa'uld, so it is difficult for them to understand science. We have a former minister from another world who gave them a mechanical harvester, and I've seen the natives treat him with the awe previously reserved for the Goa'uld. One of the first things we did was establish a school, though, so I have no doubt as their education levels increase, the faith with diminish. Hopefully to respect, but in a free society one can only hope."

"And where do you come from?" Muldon asked. "You're accents are unfamiliar to me, and I've visited several free worlds."

"For security reasons, we do not wish to say," Harry said. "Right now, we do not have the capacity to defend ourselves from any concerted Goa'uld assault. Until we can, we have to stay in the shadows. If we ever reach a point when we can fight openly, then we will do so."

"That said, however," Hermione continued seamlessly, "we are always looking for teachers. We have four good teachers from our old homeworld, but your own world is much more advanced than ours. If you are worried about us as potential threats, send a teacher. I frankly don't care if they give you occasional reports on our society since we would much rather have Hebridan as an ally given our common foes."

The minister studied her intently before looking to Harry, who shrugged. "She's in charge of the schools. My role is more analogous to your own, I'd imagine."

"We're open to discussion," Muldon finally said.

"And with that, we have the initial reports from our analysis," Calis announced. The windows looking down tinted darker and then lit up with spectacular, three-dimensional displays of DNA strands. "Ah, yes. See these two pairs? That's it—the entire difference between a Jaffa and a human. The base pair appears to be activated by elevated levels of estrogen, or likely testosterone in males, during puberty."

"Can the DNA be removed?" Hermione asked.

"In vitro, certainly," Calis said. "But it would be a rather expensive and detailed procedure and would have to be done for every single pregnancy. No, I think the easiest thing would be to simply turn the base pair off."

This time it was Hermione's turn to blink in astonishment. "You can do that?"

"Oh, certainly. The Serrikin had to deactivate several of our own chromosomal pairs in order to produce viable offspring with humans. We introduce an engineered retrovirus that will deactivate the targeted base pair. And it should be permanent from generation to generation, though there may be the occasional generational relapse. Unfortunately, we can do nothing for any adult Jaffa already bonded with a Goa'uld."

He shook his head. "I take that back. We've studied the secretions the larva produces and I suppose it would be possible to generate a substitute serum, but you'd be trading one dependency for another. It should be noted that if we do deactivate this genetic alteration, there would be a pronounced effect on the Jaffa."

"Such as?" Harry asked.

"They would essentially be human," the Serrikin said. "Both in healing abilities, strength and lifespan. Now, generations of selective breeding have produced very large, healthy humans, but they would not live to see centuries like a few Jaffa have been known to."

"It's exactly what we hoped for," Hermione breathed.

"But Ishta will need to agree," Harry said. "And Bra'tac for the male children. We can't force this on them."

"It will make for an interesting discussion," Hermione admitted.

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	21. An Ashrak For Your Thoughts?

Chap 20 review responses in my forum like normal. Also, note a small time-skip. We are now six years after Harry and Co.s arrival. There will be similar time skips going forward.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One: An Ashrak for your Thoughts?**

It was a testament to fate and luck that the spy arrived just days after Harry Potter left for another of his many trading mission to Hebridan. In fact, it was the luck of the draw alone that brought the spy to Kalmah at all. When reviewing potential worlds that could house the culture that was making so many waves in the trading worlds of Farber and Aspiracus, the world previously known as Cartego seemed an unlikely candidate.

However, word had made it through the channels of gossip that Apophis had retreated to his stronghold and had not been seen in years. That his precious Amaunet had perished, as had one of her favored spawn, and the System Lord was so shaken by the events of her passing he had retreated to his stronghold in fear.

So, really, one of Apophis's agricultural worlds, even one he had supposedly just reaped, was perhaps not so far-fetched.

The spy took his small, cloaked vessel down to the planet surface and it took only one fly-by of the gate to know that more was occurring on this world than even his own master knew of. From the sky, he saw what looked very much like a planned city growing up around the gate, something Apophis would never have allowed on one of his breadbasket worlds.

It took him a few minutes of scanning until he found an outlying farm carved from the forests that would meet his needs. He landed among the trees that seemed to cover much of the continent and made his way with stealth only his kind were capable of. The farm, when he arrived, proved to be more than a single-family dwelling. Rather, it looked to be a vast field shimmering with grain, and in its center a large structure rising two stories.

Dozens of people worked around the structure, tending food animals or doing other chores. They appeared to be human, the spy noted coolly, and wore simple clothes that nonetheless spoke of textile manufacturing.

His original plan was to kill a family of farmers and take one as a new host to better fit in. However, given the size of the settlement, he decided to continue to use his stealth. He searched until he saw a small grouping of herd animals with vast, wide antlers moving steadily toward the forest only half a mile away.

He ran through the trees without sound, arriving just out of sight of the herd animals. His timing could not have been better, since one of the tenders came after the beasts with a herding flail.

The Ashrak examined the man with satisfaction. His intended victim looked like a tall, strong figure accustomed to hard work. With a flash of his _hara'kesh_ , the Ashrak blasted the simple farmer off his feet into the untilled soil where they allowed their animals to roam. Conscious of the possibility he might be seen, the Ashrak bolted from the forest and crouched down over the barely-conscious man.

Ignoring the pain of transferring, the Ashrak switched hosts, not hesitating for a moment to kill his old host once he had crushed the will and mind of his new one. He did not take any of his old body's armor, only the _hara'kesh._ He carried his old host back into the forest and, hidden once again by the trees, vaporized the empty flesh until nothing remained but ash.

"Ordan?"

He'd just emerged from the trees when a human woman approached. With her came a flock of human children. The Ashrak could not tell their ages since such a skill was not required of him, only that they were young.

Though distasteful, he pulled on his hosts memories. "Yes, Mardao?"

"It is time to take the children to school," Mardao said. He realized this woman was the wife of his host. He felt the host struggle briefly for her sake, but he viciously crushed the moment of rebellion.

"One of the beasts wandered off, but I am ready now," he said with a smile to reassure her slight frown of worry. He sought for more memories and had to fight his surprise when he found memories of an entirely new language. Still, he was Ashrak, and nothing was beyond him. Grappling with this new, alien tongue, he said, "Are you ready, children?"

The language seemed to reassure the wife of his host, who nodded to him before walking back to the settlement for her day's chores. The children gathered around the man they believed to be Ordan, and he knew from the stolen memories at least two were of this body's loins. They walked together down a long trail of packed dirt until they came to a raised path.

The Ashrak hid his surprise to find thick, wooden tracks spaced cleverly with bits of metal. Even as they approached, a long train of five cars came bumping along the rail, each filled with children. On the head cart he saw a power generator and a simple engine that still provided more than enough power to move the wooden carts.

The children clambered up into the carts, quickly taking seats on the benches in the open conveyances. They all waved at the man they thought was their father and patriarch as the train pulled away toward town. With a glance back at the farm to make sure no one was watching, Ordan began to follow.

Any doubts he had regarding the source of the recent troubles disappeared when he came to the first plaza, a square of green trees and hearty grass crossed by cement walkways. A small pond decorated one corner, where a Serrikin of all things stood speaking to a pair of humans. All three wore clearly manufactured clothing. He continued into a small but lively city that had wide boulevards of cement paving, though every boulevard had a center lane filled with trees and more of that hearty grass.

He saw shops of every description, some selling electronic devices no Goa'uld would ever have permitted. He saw a hospital, albeit a small one, and workshops. Most of the construction was a combination of timber and brick, but appeared well made and sturdy. He saw things that made him shake his head in wonder at the awe and audacity of those on this world who thought even for a second that all they wrought would not be torn down by their gods.

He spent the day wondering through the city with all its offensive wonders. This Odran had a few copper coins which he used to buy food that he ate in another plaza, similar in size to the first but this time dominated by a lake from a river than ran through the town.

Schools, manufacturing, hospitals—he could see the influence of the Serrikin lizards here, for how else could the primitives of the world advanced so far? It had only been six years since Apophis took his sabbatical from the greater galaxy, and yet in just six years this world had transformed, as had its people.

His master would gain much prestige for destroying this world—perhaps even enough to be elevated to the rank of System Lord himself. Such a lord would be grateful to those vassals that helped elevate him, and jealous of any who might take away from him the privilege of acting alone.

With his observations complete and a slight chill in the air as mute evidence of approaching night, the Ashrak began walking back toward his ship, leaving behind the central lake he'd just come into. He'd not taken three steps, however, before someone called the name of his host.

So close to completing his task, he could not risk slipping. So he paused and turned to see someone approaching he did not recognize, even using his host's memories. It appeared to be a Jaffa girl, tall and strong with mocha-colored skin. She wore what could only be called a uniform—dark green trousers and vest over a red shirt. At her belt she carried a _zat'ni'kitel_ , and on her wrist an alien device that looked Hebridan in origin.

"Are you Ordan Lonas?" the girl asked again.

"I am," he said with a calm nod.

"The Constables received a missing persons report," the Jaffa girl said, speaking that silly new language of theirs. "You never returned with your children."

Ordan made a show of frowning and increasing blood flow as if he were blushing. "I am a foolish man," he said. "I fell asleep in the park. Are they well?"

"Yes," the Jaffa girl said. Her body-language seemed to relax.

"That is good. I was just now going to them. Please tell my wife I am coming home. I am sure she will have words with me."

"Actually, sir, I wish I could, but since she filed a report there are some steps we have to follow first. Can you come with me, please? It should only take a moment."

The Ashrak bit down on his impatience. There was no way they could know he was there. "Of course."

She motioned for him to step in front of her, and only when she moved aside did he spot another figure nearby in a matching uniform. This one was a human male similar in build to Ordan, but several years younger. He nodded with a seemingly pleasant smile to the human and let them guide him toward the wide, paved plaza that held the Chappa'ai.

In his peripheral vision, he could see other figures in the dark green uniforms casually making their way to the same destination, and in an instant he realized that somehow the locals had discovered him. Taking tight control of his host's body as only a trained Ashrak could, he flooded the body with adrenaline and oxygen, and when the body's muscles thrummed with energy, he struck.

His _hara'kesh_ flashed brilliantly as he blasted the man away from him. The human was dead before he hit the ground, and the Ashrak fully expected the Jaffa girl to follow suit. What he did not expect was for her to somehow spin in place and kick his chest hard enough send him stumbling back. She rolled away while reaching for her weapon, all in one, smooth motion.

The Ashrak would have admired her training if she did not pose a threat to his mission. As fast as she was, he had no problem forcing his host into a speed which would eventually kill it. He had a blast of killing energy away before the girl could reach for her weapon.

However, the shot never reached its target. A waifish young woman with alien platinum blonde hair and silver-blue eyes appeared suddenly in front of him and somehow shielded the blow with a ribbon device of her own! She appeared as if from silent, invisible transport rings. The only sign that she had not always been there was a pop of displaced air. She tilted her head as she stared at him, as if searching for something only she could see.

The Ashrak responded with lethal speed, once again raising the _hara'kesh_ on his hand to kill the interloper. Somehow, though, the girl moved just as fast as he did—something no human should have been capable of, and slapped his hand to the side while simultaneously bringing her elbow around to slam into his ribs.

If he were a normal human, it would have been a debilitating blow. But he was Ashrak, and he did not care about the damage to his host. He shrugged the blow away and responded with his knee.

Somehow, the girl raised her thigh to block the strike, but was physically so small she could do nothing as the hand wielding the _hara'kesh_ grabbed her by her arm and flung her backward over his shoulder.

The girl flipped mid-air and landed on her feet, eyes flat. What he intended to be a quick, unnoticed mission had turned into an open battle and he could see more of those damnable green and red uniforms running toward them in the distance. He turned to flee when a second woman appeared in front of him with a pop. This one held out her hand and a sudden, stunning blow struck the Ashrak and sent him flying backward.

"Stand back!" the white-headed girl shouted to those around them.

The green-uniformed figures obeyed, forming a large ring around the combatants.

The Ashrak narrowed his eyes as he realized that the two strange women appeared to be in charge of the city. He knew instinctively that he was not going to survive, but if he could kill the two girls, that would be enough. He reached up under his shirt and removed the only other weapon he kept from his original host—his _a'tar_ blade.

"He is a Goa'uld," the white-headed one told the other. "An assassin. He's suppressing pain responses from his host body. He's also very, very strong."

"Then why are we playing with him?" the other, taller woman asked. "Let's just kill him."

"I want to see how good he is," White-Hair said. "And besides, he showed us his, it would be rude not to show him ours." She removed a cylinder from the belt that held her knee-length blouse down and with a flip of her thumb a nearly meter-long blade of white light emerged. The Ashrak had never seen such a weapon before, but he could guess just from its properties that it was dangerous. He backed up a step when the taller woman activated her own blade.

More of the green-clad figures were arriving every minute, but now they were joined by what could only be soldiers in heavy uniforms of a lighter green, with heavy boots and helmets. They carried primitive projectile weapons that could nonetheless do him harm. There was no escape. And so, with a deep breath to energize the muscles of his stolen body, the Ashrak attacked.

He used his _hara_ ' _kesh_ to launch a kinetic blast at the taller woman while he dove and rolled with his knife toward the white-head. The attack would have worked against even seasoned Jaffa, but these two mere girls moved faster than they should have been able to. The taller girl swept her glowing blade down, somehow deflecting the kinetic energy blast, while white-head leaped into the air and flipped over his attack, once again landing nimbly on her feet.

"That wasn't a bad move," the taller woman said. "He seems faster than even a normal Goa'uld."

"The Goa'uld is over-stimulating the host's muscles," White-Head said. "Tomorrow that body will be crippled."

The Ashrak attacked again, trying with all his might to discard any doubts about how very casually the two girls were dissecting everything about him that made him such a lethal killing tool to his master.

Once again the girls easily batted aside his most dangerous attacks as they talked about his talents and skills as casually as they might discuss the weather. The first true sense of apprehension, though, came when the taller one asked white-head, "Have you been able to break his mind?"

"No, Goa'uld minds are too alien for me to make headway with through passive scans," the shorter girl said. "We'll have to wait for Harry to return. I've seen enough, though. Shall we?"

The Ashrak, realizing at that moment that these two girls had been playing with him, turned his knife on his on throat to kill both the host and he himself.

He never got a chance. An unseen force struck and locked his muscles so tight he did not even bend when the host body fell backward with a dull thud against the dirt. The white-headed girl walked to his side and leaned over him, and with her touch came the push of an alien mind against his thoughts.

The risk of her discovering his mission parameters was simply too great, and so the Ashrak did what only the Goa'uld could do. He willed himself and his host to death.

Only, he did not die. The taller woman leaned over intently until her nose was almost to his. "Oh no, little worm," she said softly. "They call our husband the Bridge Unto Heaven. Until you give him what he wants, that bridge is closed. I will not let you die until he's done with you, and when you die, it will be alone. That host is one of our people, and we will not let you kill him."

For the first time in his long life, the Ashrak finally knew utter, absolute fear.

~~Stars Above~~

~~Stars Above~~

Tel'gat squatted down, her gun flat against her chest. She saw movement behind her and urgently waved until the movement disappeared. Carefully, she learned over enough to look around the tree trunk to see the enemy approaching.

The column of soldiers numbered twenty in all, wearing the leather breastplates, masked helmets and heavy woolen slacks and boots common to the enemy. At their head walked a tall, strong Jaffa with a staff in hand, resplendent in his armor. They had to take him out first, or the entire attack would fail. This particular enemy was a known quantity—and that quantity was more than they could handle.

The Jaffa must have sensed something off, damn his eyes! He motioned for the first two soldiers to scout ahead, and the two men snapped salutes to their chest before doing just that.

Tel'gat moved back flush behind the tree that covered her and quickly made a series of hand motions to communicate the situation to her carefully hidden team. They'd been planning this ambush for hours, they couldn't afford to risk losing it now.

A _chichi_ bird cooed among the trees. The two scouts spread out ahead of the column, but the Jaffa crouched down when he heard the bird call, as if he knew he was about to die.

It didn't help. Two separate snipers fired, painting the man's breastplate red. He stumbled back as two more, and then four shots, came in quick succession, until he fell backward to the floor of the forest. The column broke formation, bringing their own weapons to ready. Unfortunately for Tel'gat, one of the two scouts was heading directly for her position.

She waited until the larger man was almost upon her before spinning from the tree to sweep the man's legs out from under him. Only when he was on the dirt did she fire twice directly into his chest over his heart. Doing so made her a target, she knew, which was why she was already moving toward the second scout.

The man also saw her and swung his gun toward her, only to have a bush beside him suddenly explode into motion, driving him backward with a powerful kick before the now revealed warrior fired two well-placed shots into his breastplate.

The forest all around the column seemed to come alive with the breathy rush of their guns firing. The enemy soldiers returned fire as best they could, but Tel'gat's squad was too well hidden and in moments had obliterated the entire enemy column.

If only that were the end, though. "More soldiers are coming!" Al'qet said as she left her cover. "Fifty men with another Jaffa. They're on double-time, they must have heard us!"

Tel'gat looked to the oldest member of her squad. "Corent, take blue team and break for point alpha. Red team, you're with me to point Beta. Thirty minutes, break again to rendezvous at point Gamma. Set times!"

They held up their Hebridan time pieces to coordinate their times before breaking in quick runs. Tel'gat's five fighters stayed right with her despite her fast pace. They moved behind her in a single file, all of them running in relative silence through the forest.

Suddenly an arm came swinging toward her chest-height from behind a tree. Tel'gat had no chance to avoid it and felt the vambrace that protected the arm slam into her own leather breast plate. Behind her, Am'dar did not miss a step as he grabbed the arm that put Tel'gat on her back, swung into and slammed his elbow into their hidden attacker's stomach.

The out-rush of breath was all the evidence they needed that the attack was successful. However, the attacker was physically larger and stronger than the fifteen-year-old Jaffa boy and tossed him bodily across the clearing. The maneuver still bought time for the other four to break their formation, run around the tree and pelt the man with their weapons.

He went down with a curse just as Tel'gat climbed stiffly back to her feet. "Our rendezvous points are compromised!" she hissed angrily. "Code black, now!"

With that, her five warriors ran to various bushes and dove for cover. Tel'gat said nothing as she belly-crawled through the thick bush and foliage. Their tactic took them to cover just as a squad of fifteen soldiers came running, gasping for breath, to the clearing. "Damn it, we lost them again!" one of the soldiers said.

Tel'gat raised her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the tired, forest-stained soldiers. Several stood with their hands above their heads, gasping for air, while others bent over with their hands on their knees. They must have been running after her squad. Against the ambient insect noise of the forest, she made a low screech beetle hiss.

Including herself, her team had only six fighters. There were fifteen men, but those fifteen men looked exhausted, and only three were actually holding their weapons. Without breaking cover, she aimed at one of those three, and from three meters away painted his helmet red. The man went down immediately just from the kinetic energy of the shot alone. The rest of the team, responding to her signal to attack, opened fire from their various hiding places as well. Like her, they targeted the most immediate threats first and then quickly worked their way out, switching from single to rapid fire.

The tired officer began shouting commands to seek cover when his own breastplate blossomed with red and he fell over. In seconds ten of the fifteen were down. One the survivors dove into a bush and emerged pulling Al'qat. "I got one!" he managed to say, shortly before Al'qat slammed her foot into the back of his knee and her hand against his chest, putting him on the ground instantly. She shot him twice and had another of his companions down before the three remaining soldiers had a chance to realize what was happening. One managed to open fire on full automatic as Al'qet dove for more cover, but in the time of her exposure the rest of Tel'gat's team finished them off.

In the silence Tel'gat cursed herself before climbing up and running to Al'qet. She found her sister Hak'tyl leaning against the tree, her neck covered in red. "You're dead!"

Al'qet shrugged. "At least I took them down first."

"And it really hurt, too," said the soldier who'd died while trying to apprehend her.

Their wrist units blinked. "Blue team is down. Exercise is over. Anyone hurt?"

The dead officer pushed himself up from the ground and removed his paint-soaked helmet. "Just my pride. Fine work, Rangers."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Tel'gat said, struggling not to smile at the praise. The other soldiers were picking themselves up to, while the surviving members of her team rose from the bushes.

"Do you think Teal'c will be mad at me?" Am'dar asked.

The Jaffa in question, who had pole-armed Tel'gat, rose as well. "He will not," Teal'c stated in his deep, basso voice. "You performed admirably. Rather than be surprised by losing your team leader, you acted quickly to ensure no others were lost. However, you did make a mistake. Do you know what it was?"

Al'qet cleared her throat. "I did not hide well enough."

"Not quite, Ranger."

Everyone in the small clearing snapped to stiff attention save for Teal'c, who gave a gracious nod as Harry Potter hopped down four meters from one of the trees with barely a flex of his knees. He stepped straight to Tel'gat herself and looked into her almond-colored eyes. "Team leader, what was your mistake?"

Tel'gat took a deep breath before releasing it. "Impatience, Akai'kheb. We were undetected. I should have kept myself and my team in hiding, and then remained in Code Black status until we reached Gamma Point for extraction."

"Correct." Harry studied each of her them, the youngest of whom was sixteen. "These men you drilled against today are the soldiers of Kalmah. In four days, you will be facing the Jaffa of Tilgath, and it will not be paint you shoot with, or get shot by. These men will be on the front lines against the slave armies. You, however, will be behind those lines. You will be surrounded by the enemy, but you won't be sent there to die heroically. Every single one of you is far too valuable to throw away on a whim."

Harry tapped his own Hebridan communicator. "Master Bra'tac, what is the final tally?"

"The Rangers accounted for sixty five enemy casualties, but lost six of their own number," came the response over the wrist piece.

Harry nodded and looked back at Tel'gat. "By the old standards of the Goa'uld's Jaffa, those numbers would be excellent. The Goa'uld expect you to die honorably for them. But you are not Jaffa. You are Mal Jaffa, the first truly free Jaffa in ten thousand years. And I expect you to live, and to fight another day. And if that means letting a superior force go by even if you are in a superior tactical position, you do so and wait until your survivability is optimal."

"Your initial ambush, for example," Teal'c said.

Harry grinned suddenly. "Yes, that was entertaining. I hope An'hur isn't too upset about cleaning the paint from his armor."

He nodded to the Byrsa officer. "Tonas, you and your men did very good today. You're dismissed and on leave until the day before deployment. Well done all."

The soldiers saluted and then began tiredly making their way back to town. When they were gone, Harry looked back to the shorter Tel'gat. "I reviewed your reports of the Ashrak infiltrator. You did everything right."

"Lordat still died," Tel'gat said stiffly. "I should have just stunned the man if there was doubt."

"If you were in a field of combat, yes," Harry said. "But you were in the middle of the city with civilians all around you. You followed protocols to the letter and performed admirably. The Goa'uld are formidable warriors, Tel'gat. And when fighting a superior enemy, it is possible to do everything right and still fail."

Tel'gat frowned but did not argue.

Harry studied her for another moment. "Pick out your ten best rangers to accompany me back to Kalhu. We're going to go in first to secure the gate, and then Tilgath himself. I want you with me."

Her eyes snapped back to the Akai'kheb's face, as if she couldn't believe what he'd said. "But…"

"I've been training you with Teal'c here for the past five years," Harry said. "You've been honed to a razor's edge, and now it's time to unsheathe the blade. We deploy in four days. Make preparations with your team. Dismissed, Captain."

Tel'gat snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, Akai'kheb! Detail, move out!"

She turned and led her unit back to the academy Harry had founded for their training. "They performed exceedingly well," Teal'c said when they were gone. "With age and experience, they will make fearsome warriors."

Harry nodded. "Some of those kids are only sixteen."

"That is the normal age a warrior dons his armor among the Jaffa," Teal'c noted. "How old were you, when you began to fight?"

Harry shook his head. "Eleven, and that was wrong too." He turned and patted the taller man's shoulders. "We're going to do everything we can to make sure these kids come back to us, aren't we?"

"Indeed," Teal'c said with a smile. For Teal'c, it meant more than even he could say that the Akai'kheb cared so much for those who fought for him.


	22. Tea Time With Tilgath

A/N: Review Responses (a few anyway) are in my forums like normal. If I mess a question or comment that is just burning a hole in your mind, feel free to follow up in the forums.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: Tea-Time With Tilgath**

The Tel'tak Harry piloted toward Kalhu, the former world of Moloc and now the world of Tilgath, was the pride of the still small Kalmah fleet. Of course it was a fleet of only five ships, three of which were just Al'kesh bomber/transports, but then again they rarely travelled by ship except for trading missions to Hebridan.

The Tel'tak could fit in the hold of any of the Al'kesh, and his ten-man team of rangers were rather squeezed in the back. However, the craft had been modified with a cloaking device more advanced than any the old Coruscan galaxy had ever known, and a pair of Staff Canons that gave it offensive capabilities most Tel'tak's did not have.

Beside him sat Tel'gat, the teen-aged Captain of the Kalmah Rangers. He'd conceived of the Rangers as a special forces team shortly after the Hebridans helped with the Symbiote situation. The Mal Jaffa lacked the regenerative abilities and projected lifespan of full Jaffa, but remained on average larger and stronger than their baseline human compatriots. When the first Mal Jaffa tried out for the Kalmah army, such as it was, Harry realized they were much more than ordinary soldiers.

Of course, the Rangers were open to any who could qualify, but it was the Mal Jaffa that inspired it. And so far, Tel'gat had been his best pupil. Gone was the frightened young teenager he took to Hebridan. In her place grew a strong, intelligent young woman coming quickly into her own. When the infiltrating Goa'uld killed one of her people, she'd passed one of the hardest hurdles of command—the loss of a subordinate.

"Reversion in two minutes," she said in a terse, nervous voice.

Harry nodded but chose not to interrupt her thoughts. Instead, he dwelled on his own as they reverted from hyperspace far enough from the planet that they would not be detected. He switched the cloak on and made toward the southern pole, furthest from the settlement that the minor Goa'uld Tilgath had taken after a trial by combat, and finally with Lord Ra's permission.

It would take the better part of three hours, but it would ensure they were not seen.

"Akai'kheb, may I ask you a question?" she said softly, so as not to be heard by her squad in back.

Harry turned and studied her. Her expression looked as stoic as always, but he could feel nervousness pouring off her. "Of course."

"What is Kheb like?"

Tel'gat was eighteen years old, and she was going into her first true combat. Harry opened himself and felt terror, nervousness and anticipation among all the Rangers, none of whom had ever faced true combat. This was especially true for Tel'gat.

He smiled at her, feeling as fond of her as if she were his own daughter, despite the fact she actually looked a little older now than he did. "Let me show you something, Tel'gat."

He leaned over and touched her shoulder, and instantly a vibrant red-green luminescence shone from her chest and head brightly enough she could see it reflected in the cockpit ports. "What is that?" she whispered, wide-eyed.

"You're soul, Tel'gat," Harry said, having used a simple _anima illuminati_ charm. "Your _Ki_. All of you have it. I can't tell you what Kheb is like. I've died and come back, but I can't remember everything. Maybe they knew it wouldn't be fair to me or those around me if I could remember. But I do know that inside you is a luminescent being—a pure being. And when your body dies, that power that is unique to you will continue on.

He knew the others could hear; that some of them had stood to see what the light was. His words were as much for them as for Tel'gat. "It is okay to fear death, the same way you fear any great change. Death hurts—my own deaths were agonizing, as were my rebirths. But do not let that fear control you, because that is not truly your end. You, Tel'gat, are more eternal than any Goa'uld. Remember that."

"I will, Akai'kheb," she whispered, eyes wide in awe as the light emanating from her faded.

Three hours later, they inserted over the southern pole and began flying at subsonic speeds toward the northeastern continent and the city of Kalhu on the world of the same name. Harry brought the ship lower, until they were almost skimming the mesas of the desert region that separated the southern ocean from the more fertile areas the Goa'uld had planted their slaves.

"No ships in orbit, but there is a Ha'tak in the city," Tel'gat reported tersely.

"Tilgath's ship," Harry said with a nod. "Soon to be ours, if all goes well. Everyone gear up. Remember your training, and you will get through this."

With that, Harry settled the Tel'tak down three miles outside of the small city that housed most of Tilgath's personal slaves and Jaffa. The minor Goa'uld won the battle because he had nothing else to lose—he had no home world of his own, but instead served as a vassal to Apophis. With his lord's recent absence, he threw every asset he had into taking Kalhu, and when he won it he moved all of those assets onto his new world. After all, he had to repair the mine that Harry destroyed and get the Naquedah flowing to meet his obligations to his superiors.

When they emerged from the Tel'tak, it was to a drier, warmer world than they left. The gravity pulled slightly less than Kalmah as well due to the planet's slightly smaller size. That would work in their favor, Harry knew.

They egressed from the cloaked ship—Harry marked the ground with a magic tracer to ensure they could find it again. The Rangers were all dressed in a dull, gray mottled camouflage fabric manufactured on Hebridan but assembled on Kalmah. The mottled camouflage avoided any actual patterns and allowed the wearers to better blend in with their environment. Harry led the way at a brisk run that he knew the Rangers would be able to maintain without difficulty.

They slowed when they came to the first outskirts of the city. The gate rested on the western side of the town, surrounding by a ring of monoliths in a heavily decorated open plaza easily within sight of the two ziggurats and the single Ha'tak that rested atop the nearer of them. If they activated the gate, the light would alert every Jaffa there.

Harry slowed their pace as they got closer and closer to the gate, moving in a silent, single-file line between a Jaffa barracks and the gate itself. Within the monolith plaza, he could see movement as a pair of Jaffa kept silent vigil.

Harry signaled Tel'gat, who with her own hand-language signaled five of her people to circle around to the other side of the gate. Harry himself crept forward, crouching low and moving slowly. After just moments, the five other Rangers completely faded into the gloom of the night.

The Jaffa guarding the gate knew their business. The only torches burned outside the ring, rather than inside where the guards did their patrol. Doing so ensured their night vision was not directly impacted. Harry let Tel'gat set her snipers while he stood ready to Apparate into the ring should anything go wrong.

From Tel'gat's wrist he heard the faintest buzz, only a second, to alert her that the other team was ready. _Four targets sighted_ ,she signaled with her hands.

 _Take them out_ , Harry signaled back.

Tel'gat nodded, but her snipers didn't fire immediately. Instead, they waited patiently until all four guards were in optimal firing position, and then in a staccato pattern four silenced shots, sounding like nothing more than whispers, took all four Jaffa down.

Harry apparated directly into the plaza and verified that all four Jaffa were dead. Moments later the Rangers arrived and took up positions within the ring. Harry, meanwhile, cast an instant darkness shroud over the gate itself, accompanied by powerful silencing charms. He then dialed Kalmah and cast a patronus within the shroud to ensure the Ha'tak guards would not see it.

A second later, he let the gate close. "Guard shift approaching!" Tel'gat warned.

Harry looked and saw four Jaffa walking from the barracks to the plaza, staff weapons in hand. Because they were approaching from outside the rings, the torchlight obscured their vision of those within.

"Jaffa, _chel hol_ ," one of the four new arrivals said tiredly.

" _Chel hol,"_ Harry said, deepening his voice.

The four guards, having just woken up, did not immediately notice the answer came in a voice they did not recognize. The moment they stepped past the monoliths, Harry and his Rangers struck. Tel'gat herself plunged a long knife directly into the first man's throat, while Harry snapped the neck of the second and two more rangers quickly, brutally killed the last two. They dragged them into the circle and quickly began stripping their armor.

As they did so, the shroud shimmered and Hermione stepped through. She wore the same camouflage uniform as the Rangers, but held a ribbon device in her left hand and an unlit lightsaber in her right. Teal'c followed shortly after with the first of their soldiers.

He said nothing to Harry as he motioned for the soldiers, mostly Byrsa and a few recently immigrated Hebridan volunteers, into the city to begin securing strategic sites. Meanwhile, the Rangers had stripped the four dead Jaffa of their armor, and their four largest members had donned it. The only thing that marked them as different was the lack of symbols on their heads.

"Let's go," Harry said.

He _disillusioned_ himself and led the four back toward the Jaffa barracks while Hermione silently led the remainder of the Rangers toward the ziggurats. Within the low-slung, hastily constructed barracks, Harry sensed at least fifty Jaffa. Four were awake, keeping additional guard.

As he approached, Am'dur, Tel'gat's second, said as if exhausted after a long shift, "Jaffa, _chel hol._ "

" _Kree_ ," came the short response from within the door.

It opened and Harry, invisible, stepped in. The four rangers in their armor stepped in after. The guard took one look at their unblemished foreheads and started to shout an alarm when Am'dur struck with stiff fingers right at the larger Jaffa's throat, silencing him and crushing his larynx. Harry, meanwhile, began casting stunners as fast as he could, throwing out broad, area-wide swaths of red magic that took the Jaffa down five or six at a time across the rows of narrow cots where they slept, often before they had a chance to even wake.

His four Rangers came right after to quickly secure the captured warriors. In moments, they'd secured the Gate barracks. When he left, he found even more Kalmah soldiers assembling at the gate. "Ten men to guard the barracks," he ordered the nearest officer. Meanwhile, with Am'dur and his other Rangers till in Jaffa armor, he also made his way toward the Ziggurat.

So far, things had gone perfect, but Harry knew it could not continue. He began reaching out with the Force for the alien, tell-tale presence of a matured Goa'uld and found it at the top of the Ha'tak, exactly where one would expect it. He arrived at the gates that Hermione and her unit had already secured.

"No alarm yet, but it's coming soon," she whispered.

"Did you sense Tilgath?" Harry asked.

She nodded mutely, looking at him with eyes that gleamed in the torchlight. "Are you going straight there?"

"Follow me, as fast as you can," he said.

She nodded before leaning over to kiss him. "I'd tell you to be safe, but that would be foolish. So instead, be victorious."

He grinned and then apparated directly to the Force presence he'd felt at the top of the Ha'tak.

Despite all their efforts at stealth, Harry was not entirely surprised to find the Goa'uld quickly donning armor, surrounded by Jaffa warriors. He was shouting orders to send out the troops while also demanding to know who was attacking. Somehow, he seemed to listen and understand five or six shouted reports, sometimes of people talking over each other as they scrambled to answer. It was a remarkable example of just how powerful Goa'uld minds were that he was able to multi-task so effectively.

Harry was going to kill him anyway. Disillusioned, he studied the environment of Tilgath's sanctuary. He noted the wide bed and a few terrified, naked slave girls cowering in a corner as more Jaffa came to their god's command. The whole space was luxuriously appointed in gold, silver and an array of precious jewels. But what caught Harry's attention were the broad, wide-open windows that allowed the cool evening air to waft in.

Though he had no doubt he could have done serious damage to all the Jaffa in the room, without fiendfyre he couldn't be sure he would kill them all. And he needed Tilgath alive, at least temporarily. So, he cheated.

Grasping a mixture of the Force and magic, Harry levitated the nearest clumping of twenty Jaffa and flung them out the window of the Ha'tak. The terrified warriors cried out in alarm before disappearing. The other Jaffa brandished their staff weapons while a shield appeared around Tilgath himself, but they did not have a clear target to shoot.

Harry grabbed yet another clumping and sent them flying. "Spread out, Jaffa!" Tilgath ordered. "The attacker is cloaked! Look for a shimmer!" The Goa'uld sounded more angry than frightened. He held his own ribbon device up before him, ready to strike with his own not-inconsiderable power.

Harry noticed doors opening to admit more soldiers. Quickly apparating to each of the entrances, he magically sealed them before letting his cloak drop. Instantly forty staff weapons turned and fired with a speed no mere human could have emulated. Rather than shield or avoid them, Harry lit both hia lightsabers and began batting the blasts back at the shooters, using their own weapons to kill them.

The Jaffa answered by spreading out to more easily avoid the returned blasts while increasing their field of fire. In response, Harry shifted from lightsabers to Force lightning. The warriors screamed and even Tilgath stepped back in alarm when clouds of blue lightening blasted a dozen men at a time off their feet.

Behind them, one of Harry's magically sealed doors suddenly opened, but it was not Jaffa that entered. Hermione charged in, her lightsaber and ribbon device each glowing, as behind her came Kalmah soldiers by the dozen. The men fired their Hebridan-designed carbines into the lines of Jaffa defenders that survived Harry's initial attack.

Tilgath, realizing his defense was lost, slapped his hand down on his ribbon device. A bright light shone around him as his transport rings activated.

Harry, though, could not afford to let the Goa'uld escape. When his first attempt to summon the Goa'uld failed, he instead summoned one of the Goa'uld Jaffa from behind him, using the screaming Jaffa as a hammer to slam the Goa'uld himself out of the rings.

Tilgath quickly recovered his feet, but by then Harry was already on him. He kicked the creature's ribbon device away and then slammed his hand directly onto the Goa'uld's forehead, slamming into the alien mind with all the legillimancy and Force power he possessed.

Tilgath, however, was no mere Jaffa, nor was he a newly matured symbiote like the creature Apophis tried to implant in Harry. Not even the Ash'rak could compare. The mind that Harry encountered was powerful and ancient. It did not wield magic, but it contained a vast intelligence gained over eons and a will that was beyond human imagining. It fought back powerfully against Harry's mental assault, and what he hoped would take seconds dragged out into minutes.

~~Stars Above~~

~~Stars Above~~

Hermione stumbled when she felt the entire power of her husband's mind coalesce to a razor-sharp focus onto the mind of Tilgath. She knew in a second that he was literally in a fight for his life against a surprisingly powerful, alien mind.

She glanced around and saw that her soldiers had mostly gained control of Tilgath's sanctuary, save for a dozen Jaffa standing in a protective ring around a handful of Goa'uld priestesses and slave girls. She thought it odd the Jaffa would even care about the slaves, but they fought viciously against the Kalmah soldiers, one even using his body to take several bullets that would have hit one of the women behind him.

Using a _Sonorous_ , Hermione shouted, "Cease fire!"

The soldiers obeyed instantly, but did not just stand to take incoming fire. Rather, they backed away from the defenders until they could find some cover. Hermione didn't bother as she stepped toward the wide-eyed defenders.

One of the Jaffa fired; she didn't even bother with a full magical shield. Instead, she batted it away with a swipe of her saber before lashing them with her own Force lightning. While not on the epic-scale that Harry could generate, it was enough to blow them off their feet. "Fire again, and you all die," she said.

She turned sideways and pointed at where Harry and Tilgath stood in stiff, silent combat. Neither moved an inch, though both their faces were warped with the effort of their mental combat. While she hated the stage she had to set, she, Luna and Harry all agreed it was necessary if they wanted to reduce the death toll.

"Your god is being judged by the Akai'kheb," she said, her voice still ringing. "And if he is judged unworthy, he will die this day. Do not bring yourself into the judgment of the Akai'kheb."

Harry's Rangers trickled into the room, and in their midst came Teal'c, his forehead gleaming gold with the symbol of Apophis. The Jaffa of Tilgath stared at him in shock. " _Shol'va!"_ one shouted.

"I did not betray my god," Teal'c said calmly as he came to stand beside Hermione. "I watched as he ran screaming like the worm he is from the Akai'kheb and his companions. I heard his mate's voice from within the woman beside me, screaming as she died that those you see would be the death of all Goa'uld. And I have seen our children freed from the need for Symbiotes entirely."

He motioned, and Tel'gat stepped forward in her mottled uniform. "I am Tel'gat, Mal Jaffa," she said. "I was born Jaffa, but because of the Akai'kheb I survived the Age of Prata without being implanted. I am free, and as a free Jaffa, I have chosen to serve the Akai'kheb."

Hermione watched the Jaffa intently—they recovered from her Force lighting far faster than a normal human would be. She had no doubt they could give her and people a fair run for their money if they fought. However, she could tell from the tension in their bodies that they were torn with indecision. After all, what were Jaffa supposed to do when their god engaged another higher being in direct combat? If he lost, then he was no longer worthy for them to worship. If they interceded and he did not need their help, he would be angry over the implied insult. And if he did need their help, they interceded, and still lost, they would raise the ire of their potential new god.

The decision was rendered moot when Tilgath began to scream and convulse under Harry's terrible psychic grip. Hermione, realizing the Jaffa had been raised and bred to respond to the theatricality of a Goa'uld, nodded with satisfaction. "Tilgath has been judged, and was found lacking," she said with all the aplomb of a Shakespearean actor.

She couldn't help but smile at the sound of the Goa'uld's screams—she herself could not forget the feeling of violation when she was herself implanted. After what seemed an age that in truth lasted only seconds, Harry let Tilgath fall dead to the floor. He briefly met Hermione's eyes, and in that one glance she realized he was utterly spent from the fight.

Even so, he stepped to his wife's side, while Teal'c continued to speak.

"My brothers, I speak to you only the truth. The Akai'kheb and his Chosen shine like living stars. Though he could easily kill all the Jaffa of Tilgath, he stands before you to give you a choice of freedom. He does not wish our deaths, but instead wishes us to live free and strong. I see from your own actions that you are all worthy and honorable Jaffa. And so I tell you, on my own honor, that the Akai'kheb is worthy of your worship."

Harry looked around the room at the other torn Jaffa. "I will not compel service," he said. "A man who serves of his own will is always stronger than one forced to serve against it. If you do not wish to serve me, then you are free to walk away if you lay down your weapons. If you choose to stay, know that we can all see into your souls, and know if you lie. Choose now, my friends. Will you renounce the dead god Tilgath and vow to the Akai'kheb, walk away in peace, or die?"

* * *

A/N: I realized this was actually one of the shortest chapters I've posted in a while. I could have stretched it out, but...I didn't. Anyway, Happy New Year!


	23. A Burning Darkness

A/N: No review responses today, my apologies. Having a hard morning, can't really type well. Good thing this chapter is done. Should be better soon, hopefully. Anyway, have a long chapter to make up for last week.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three: A Burning Darkness**

When Harry woke up in an unfamiliar bed, it was to a throbbing headache and a general queasiness he had not felt since before he fell through the Veil. His own magic felt like it was boiling inside him, while the Force thrummed with a deep, unknown sense of danger.

He was not surprised to find Luna beside him, her naked body melded to his like a well-tailored glove. "Hermione?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"Seeing to the war," Luna said, understanding his unspoken question. She spoke softly, her lips just inches from his left ear. "Not all of the Jaffa have surrendered. The fighting has bled out into the countryside."

He frowned—he didn't remember any of that. "Casualties?"

He felt Luna's concern as much with the ongoing battle as with his seeming inability to remember. "The initial battle went well, but once the Jaffa started fighting back, the casualties began to rise. We have ten percent losses so far, but I expect we'll lose closer to fifteen percent before we've pacified the planet. Hermione is doing her best to alleviate the casualties."

"I should be out there," Harry said. He started to sit up only to fail and fall back. It wasn't Luna's arm across his chest that held him down—it was a ragged, almost lightning-sharp pain that struck through every nerve of his body like a _Cruciatus_ curse.

"You're not well, Harry," Luna said. She did not state the obvious—she tried her best to make him understand what should have been obvious. "I could feel your fight with Tilgath even through the Gate. Hermione said it felt like two hurricanes clashing. Was he more powerful than the one Apophis put in you?"

A sudden onslaught of alien images and thoughts raged through his mind like fire. The strange room around him narrowed down into a pinpoint of distant light besieged by darkness as pain enveloped him. He didn't even realize he'd cried out until he felt Luna's own unique, powerful mind pushing against his, trying to put out the fires in his brain. When at last his vision recovered, he saw and felt her straddling him, holding his head in both her hands as she stared worriedly down at him.

"You're hurt, Harry," she said, still holding him. "What happened?"

Harry winced. "I was going after Tilgath's security codes."

"Yes, you gave them to Hermione. She locked down his communication system so no one could get word out to the Goa'uld. The ha'tak is ours."

"I don't remember that," Harry admitted. "There was so much…Tilgath was three thousand years old, Luna. His queen before him was ten thousand years old. All those memories—he didn't have Occlumancy, he just had so many eons to hide his thoughts behind. I had to…"

He shuddered as another agonizing surge of alien memories and thoughts crashed against the bulwarks of his own mind. "Tilgath's memories were overwhelming. He's done things that make my old master look like a schoolyard bully. I…"

He had to stop as more pain came.

"Akai'kheb?"

He blinked, forcing his eyes to focus passed Luna. Though she herself was naked as she straddled him, she did not seem to care as Tel'gat stepped into the unfamiliar space.

"Tel'gat, the Akai'kheb is worn from his battle with Tilgath," Luna said with forced calm. "He will not be available until he has recovered." She climbed off him and the seemingly endless bed and summoned a robe to cover herself with. Tel'gat did not even blink at the casual use of power, nor Luna's naked body.

"What can I do to help, Lady?"

"He'll need time to meditate. Post a contingent of Rangers around these quarters. Lady Hermione must remain in command of the ground forces for now. Any word from the city?"

"Yes, Lady. The Lady Hermione's forces took the enemy firebase south of the city. The enemy Jaffa did try to retake the gate, but Master Bra'tac's battalion held them off. We should have the planet before nightfall."

"Very good, thank you Tel'gat. Please let Lady Hermione know that the Akai'kheb is resting, and when you have a chance please send something to eat."

"Yes, Lady Luna." She did not bow—Harry insisted he and his family never be bowed to. But she did nod from the neck respectfully before leaving the room.

Luna walked back to the bed and sat down beside it. "You're not going anywhere until you've purged those memories. And I'll be here with you."

He took her hand, trying to for a smile, when suddenly, abruptly the pain struck again. Once more, all of creation narrowed down to the narrowest tunnel of his vision, before even that small light was overwhelmed by the burning darkness

~~Stars Above~~

~~Stars Above~~

 _The king strode confidently through the crowd, clad in his shendyt skirt of fine linin. The strips of leather from his sandals wrapped up to his knees and his broad, muscular chest gleamed with oil under the stark light of the sun overhead. Upon his head he wore the Deshret—the red crown of his dynasty. In one hand he carried a wood and stone mace, and in the other a flail. And behind him walked the very first army of wizards the world had ever seen._

 _The wizards varied in dress, language and custom. Some carried staffs or stone maces as foci, while others wielded bones or other implements of their power. There were even a pair of wizards from across the seas to the East, with occidental eyes that set them apart from their peers. They were living proof of just how extensive trade was in the ancient world._

 _And over them, borne solely by the power of the wizards' chanting magic, floated a massive stone that easily weighed three tons and could have killed many of the men who walked beneath it if it fell. The stone was covered in symbols and thrummed with the first and most powerful warding magic the world had ever known._

 _Harry walked in their midst, unsure of how he came to be there or why he was walking with his ancestors. He wore animal skins that barely covered his nethers and could feel lice crawling in the thick, dirty braids of his hair. Behind the charismatic king who bore no magic beyond that of leadership; behind the army of wizards, marched a true army of warriors gathered again from across the world. Tens of thousands of men on foot and in horse-drawn chariots marched with weapons of bronze, stone and wood._

 _Ahead of them… ahead of them rose the great pyramids that predated all of the dynasties. In front of those pyramids crouched the great and fearsome sphinx who bore Ra's face as a warning to all who would challenge him; and finally, dwarfed by the stone work behind it, rested the Gate Unto Heaven, the_ Chappa'ai.

 _Guarding the gate stood a ring of easily a thousand Jaffa, with more Jaffa coming through the gate even as the great king led his army toward it. In the midst of the Jaffa stood several gods directing the defenses of the gate._

 _The king, whose name time would confuse over the centuries but who went by Narmer, raised his mace and shouted "Down with the gods!"_

 _Harry felt shock at how similar the words were to the Goa'uld language, which he now realized was derived from the spoken language of the Goa'uld's first human hosts. Behind him, Narmer's armies picked up the cry, while the wizard-priests continued their chanting. In days before magical wands and staffs, it was the only way for wizards and witches to express their magic._

 _Narmer charged, bringing the mace down as a signal to his generals. However, he himself never moved more than a man's length from the floating stone. His armies swept around the line of priests like the pincers of a giant scorpion, descending on either side toward the ring of Jaffa._

 _Staff weapons fired hundreds of feet before any of the spears of the attackers could come close, and immediately men begin to die. Still, the armies came in numbers not even a thousand, or two thousand Jaffa, could stop with just staff weapons. Though the native armies suffered unimaginable losses, they had such numbers on their side that they still crashed into the line of defending Jaffa with a roar that filled the Nile Valley._

 _Still the king and the wizards of the ancient world came, floating a massive stone above them._

 _The battle ahead raged with terrifying savagery. The Jaffa to a man were larger and stronger than their opponents, and when combat pressed in too close for their staffs the genetically engineered warriors used knives and their armor to great effect. Bronze and stone weapons bent and broke against Jaffa armor, and for a while it seemed as if the Jaffa line would hold as the bodies of the dead humans began to pile up around them._

 _But numbers alone again overcame. Where bronze knives could not pierce armor, bare hands ripped it apart at the seams. Where bodies piled high, men climbed over the dead to dive without regard to their own bodies onto the fighting Jaffa, creating a shield of flesh to give their comrades opportunity to break the line. Jaffa were lifted off their feet and battered within their armor by sticks, spears and stone maces that broke against armor but still did great damage to the living flesh within._

 _Finally the line broke beyond the ability of the still streaming reinforcements to repair it. The gate was still open and troops poured out only to be killed immediately, but it meant the Goa'uld commanders themselves could not escape. Narmer and his priests moved through battlefield, and Harry realized they were protected by the wards of the stone itself. It explained the king's proximity to his priests. Charismatic or not, Narmer chose safety and the appearance of courage over true bravery and the chance of death. He was, Harry thought, a smart king._

 _At Narmer's direction, the gate came tumbling down at the hands of a hundred angry soldiers, while a hundred more began to dig deep into the ground. As heavy as the gate was, the sheer number of men around it overcame the weight and carried it to the hastily dug pit, where they threw it down. The priests continued to chant despite no food and water for a whole day under the sun to levitate the stone while Narmer directed the final disposition of the gate. When at last it was buried deep enough, Harry and the other priests sang the great stone into its place. With a final clang of stone against naquedah, the wards activated._

 _Narmer lifted his head when the stone was in place and ululated his joy across the plain between the sphinx, pyramids and the river. Around him, those who survived the battle for humanity's freedom joined in. But the celebration was short lived as a shadow eclipsed the sun._

 _Harry looked up just like the others and shrank down in terror as he too saw a pyramid twice as large as the great ones before him floating free in the sky and blocking the sun. He knew this was the golden chariot of Ra himself._

 _However, the true power of the ward stone revealed itself as a shimmering wave of energy erupted from the freshly buried capstone. It slammed into the pyramid and distorted its flight, forcing it to rise back into the heavens. Narmer's celebration started anew with a fresh frenzy as a cascade of happy ululation spread across the Nile valley. None of them at first noticed the fine green mist that glistened in the late evening sun as Ra's ship retreated to the heavens. The mist spread before the winds as it sprinkled down._

 _Though Harry could not see it with his own eyes, somehow he sensed that the ship did not truly leave, but instead passed across the width of the earth, trailing the green mist as it went until the entire planet was saturated_

 _When the mist finally reached them, those nearest King Narmer ceased their ululations as the priests saw their skin losing color. The genetically targeted, biological agents destroyed their blood cells as quickly as fire. Harry's last sight before the darkness took him was a sensation of screams, as all the witches and wizards from across the ancient world fell dead before a confused and terrified Narmer, the founder of the First Dynasty of a newly united Egypt._

~~Stars Above~~

~~Stars Above~~

Hermione tried to remember the last time her body ached so badly. Even with the Elixir of Life flowing through her veins, she ached. She also smelled. The improvised armor she wore was splattered with mud, blood and Merlin knew what else, and she was fairly certain she had part of a man's intestine somewhere in her hair. She tried very hard not to think about it, though.

As a young woman, Hermione Granger never in a million years thought she would be taking part in large-scale war. In fact, she wasn't even sure she could describe the past two days as large scale warfare, at least not on the scale of the wars her grandfather used to describe. And yet, it was war. Tilgath had almost two thousand Jaffa under his command, and Harry attacked with a force of three thousand Kalmah soldiers.

Their plan counted on surprise and his and Hermione's own supernatural abilities to overcome the Jaffa's natural strength and enhanced reflexes. Initially, it worked. The townspeople were slaves and offered no resistance, and Harry and his Rangers captured the gate and neutralized the only avenue for reinforcements Tilgath had.

The two of them then quickly neutralized Tilgath and his personal guard themselves. Hermione knew Harry was exhausted after ripping the codes from the Goa'uld's mind, but thought a few hours of meditation would be sufficient to deal with the problem. She took the Goa'uld codes he gave her and used the amazing technology suite in the Ha'tak to block any communications Jaffa or hidden Goa'uld agents might attempt.

What followed was grinding, grueling warfare. Despite Tilgath's death and the surrender of some of his personal guard, the majority refused to surrender and fought to the death with a sobering level of fanaticism. Even worse was seeing men her husband had spent the past five years training and honing into weapons dying by the hundreds as they routed out the last pockets of resistance.

She did everything she could—employing every magic and the Force to the best of her abilities—and killed over a hundred Jaffa by herself. But try as she might, she could not save all her men.

Now, standing on the edge of the last hold-out and watching as the victorious forces of Kalmah policed the bodies, she found herself weeping silently for all the men she and her family led to their deaths.

A young captain, barely in this twenties, walked toward her with a tired step. "Lady Hermione," he said with a sharp nod of greeting. "Word from the Rangers. The Akai'kheb is resting after his battle with the god Tilgath. The town perimeter is secure. Rangers also report they have conducted sweeps and find no evidence of Jaffa escapees. They have found humans fleeing the battle, but left them alone as instructed."

"Good, captain," Hermione said. She forced the urge to cry back with her own sharp nod. "Transport our fallen back to Kalmah for the burning ceremonies. If the Akai'kheb is unable to conduct it, Luna or I shall in his stead. Please also begin a census of the population here—Councilor Lomet should have the census forms for your people when he comes through with our next supply run."

"Yes, m'lady. Any other orders?"

Hermione pursed her lips and looked at the burned out, underground bunker that proved the most difficult Jaffa stronghold to clean out. "Make sure our men get rest and food and the civilians are taken care of. Either Master Bra'tac or General Teal'c are in command. I must go see to the Akai'kheb."

"It shall be done, m'lady."

He nodded to her, but her thoughts were already on Harry. With her grip on the Goa'uld ribbon device that now served as her wand, she spun away with a pop and reappeared a second later to find Luna sitting on Tilgath's obscenely huge bed, her hand on Harry's chest and tears running down her face.

"What…" Only Hermione stopped. She couldn't feel Harry in the Force at all. "Has he…?"

"He's died again," Luna said, wiping away a tear. "I'm keeping his heart beating with magic. Tilgath's psyche was too much for him."

After so many times seeing her husband prone and unmoving, it amazed Hermione that it still felt like a blow to her stomach. She moved to the side of the bed opposite Luna and climbed forward until she too could touch his chest. She felt Luna's magic forcing his heart to beat, since nothing came from his mind to compel it.

Neither woman was surprised when Kisher Lomet came barreling into the room. "Akai'kheb, this Tilgeth was wealthy beyond all…" He came to a halt when he took in the sad tableau. "Anshur's flame, what happens here?"

"We won't be able to keep it a secret," Luna noted with preternatural calm. It was, Hermione realized, not their first time. "Many of the Byrsa already know from our first arrival." In her mind through their Force bond, Hermione heard more. _It is their faith in him as the Akai'kheb that drives everything. He is their god, whether he wishes it or not. We must be united in this. He is walking on Kheb, communing with the heavens to seek wisdom."_

Hermione hated the idea of pretending to be gods, but she could see fear in Kisher Lomet's eyes, and knew that it would be even more profound among their soldiers. Harry was more than just their general and the leader of their world. He was the god who delivered the souls of their dead to heaven and brought their people from the edge of extinction to a force that could challenge the Goa'uld (even if only a minor one).

She nodded to let Luna know she agreed and then stood. She noted with some disgust that where she sat was now bloody stain on the pristine silken sheets.

"Harry fought Tilgath with his mind alone, and ripped away the security codes we need to run the ha'tak," she told the large man. "And then…and then he travelled to Kheb to commune with the heavens. He's done it before, Kisher, when we first arrived on Byrsa. He will return."

"But…but…" Lomet moved passed her until he too stood by the bed. "His chest rises…"

"We maintain his body," Luna told him. "We will do so as long as we must, until he returns. But the business of Kalmah and now Kalhu must continue. Will you help us, Kisher?"

The large man looked from one witch to the other before scratching nervously at his beard. "There is no question of that, dear ladies. I just worry what the Council will think."

As tired as Hermione was, she knew the former Erid man's concerns were justified. The Council was Kalmah's parliamentary body, established by Harry to ensure that their people had a voice in the government. While the constitution was still under consideration, she knew that if the Council lost their faith in Harry, there would be consequences.

"Then we go speak to them now," Hermione said. "Right now."

Lomet studied her filthy, bloodied appearance, and then glanced at Harry before nodding. "Yes, _Anu_ , I believe this might be the best time. Let them see that, as much as your husband, you too are a fierce warrior. I will stand with you, of course. And Bra'tac, I would think."

"Agreed," Hermione said.

~~Stars Above~~

~~Stars Above~~

 _The heavens bled as gods fought and died._

 _Harry stood in what looked like the bridge of a warship comparable in size to anything in the Corusca galaxy, but with technology so far beyond that of the Empire he trembled at the thought of a conflict between the two. And yet, for all the power within the ship, the power of the enemy was even greater._

 _The Enemy ships looked like great rings powered by an agonizing tear in the fabric of the Force itself. The cores of the ships appeared to humans as gentle balls of blue light, but the light was actually radiation resulting from the miniature singularities that ripped holes to a higher dimension._

 _The Enemy ships attacked with beams of such devastation he wondered if even the Death Star could have survived. Even so, such was the power of the ship he stood upon that it did not explode. Instead, it shuddered violently and returned fire with a similar beam of light. Thousands of Enemy ships attacked a fleet of mere hundreds of his own fleet, forcing them to perform a fighting, strategic withdrawal that had gone on for centuries across various galaxies._

 _And where the battle passed, the two fleets left only devastated systems, exploded stars and utter desolation in their wake._

 _The real fight, though, was not among the ships. In the emptiness beyond, just on the edge of his physical vision but well within his Force senses, fought beings of pure fire and pure starlight, entwined in a vicious battle. Occasionally, one or the other would die, and space would erupt with the force of a supernova with each immortal death._

" _This isn't happening," Harry said finally. "History could not have forgotten something like this."_

" _History could not have survived something like this," a woman said._

 _Harry turned to see her join him at the front of the bridge as the two looked at displays that revealed the full horror of the battle all around them. She appeared to be in her early forties and still attractive in a matronly way. "This was the ultimate battle we could not fight, for just fighting it would ensure we all lost."_

 _As if to punctuate her statement, a sector of space in the far distance seemed to shimmer before a burst of bright white light filled all screens, so brilliant it was blinding. Harry blinked the brilliance away, and instead of standing on the bridge of a ship, he found himself sitting cross-legged in a small room on a sandy floor. The only illumination came from a single candle that rested between he, and the woman from the ship's bridge._

 _Under the low, glimmering light of the candle, Harry suddenly remembered._

" _You are Oma Desala," he said, instinctively knowing her name. "And I'm dead. Again."_

" _Death does seem to be a habit of yours," Oma said with a kind, wry smile. "You failed to realize just how powerful a mature Goa'uld's mind was. Its consciousness would have overwhelmed even yours, eventually, and in time you would have become a true monster. Your mind chose the better alternative. And here you are, once again."_

" _Where is here?"_

" _Don't you remember? You've been claiming to have come here for the past six years, Akai'kheb."_

 _Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, and in so doing memories he could not remember before flooded into his brain. He opened his eyes again and stared. "It was you. You caught me after I fell through the Veil."_

" _And again after Darth Vader killed you."_

" _But how?"_

" _In the higher realms, time and space have little meaning. We reside around galaxies as a means of context only, but we could and have seen both the beginning and end of all things. And if we chose to take corporeal form, we could do so at any point in between—either in the Ministry of Magic, or the Jedi Temple two billion years before."_

" _Why?"_

" _For me to answer, I must ask you a question, Harry. Why did you survive the Bane of Ra, when Voldemort would not have?"_

" _The Force." Harry stared at her face as the dim candle caused it to shift and change with flickering shadows. "You…you put me in Palpatine's hands. It was you who let the Sith rape me and destroy my personality."_

 _Rather than deny it, Oma simply stared at him sadly. As she did so, more memories came unbidden to Harry—memories of a time spent elsewhere after Vader killed him. As the memories flooded him, Oma spoke. "Magic or the Force, either is merely a taste of the cosmos. But the flavor of each is unique and special. The power the Jedi wielded was a weak, distant echo of that first moment of true power that saw the creation of this universe. The Jedi were the first Ancients, touching divinity before even we did. It is the same power that sparked the moment of abiogenesis in the universe—that moment of life's first creation, when God—if you will—first breathed life into existence. It does not matter whether you wield it through magic spells or Jedi mental cantrips—the end result is the same. You change the accepted pattern of existence to suit your own needs. It is an act of divine selfishness."_

" _So it was you who guided me after my death of personality, and not Rahm Kota."_

 _For an instant, the woman was gone, replaced instead by a rugged, aged, white-eyed old Jedi. "And for good reason," the figure bearing Rahm Kota's face said. "Remember, Harry."_

 _He delved further into his memories of his time after death. "I've ascended," he whispered. "I am at this moment the same as you."_

" _Nearly so," Oma admitted, once more in her own form. "You are powerful, so powerful you will be a beacon to the Enemy. They will either see you as a potential recruit for themselves, or they will see you destroyed, just like we did to the ascended Jedi and Sith."_

 _That last statement caused Harry's mind to plummet to a time before. He hovered in the void between galaxies and watched as the Corusca Galaxy died, sucked into a super-massive black hole. All around it, trillions upon trillions of beings of pure starlight held back a surge of fiery beings who struggled to get out, to escape a force so terrible it could destroy even ascended beings._

" _Some fights were too great to allow to expand," Oma said. "After eons of fighting, the Jedi were no better than the Sith. They destroyed themselves and their galaxy in their hatred of each other, and in so doing ascended into the first Enemy, the first evil the Universe could not tolerate. And so the Ascended of all creation gathered, and the First Enemy was cast down into the darkness."_

" _But a new Enemy has arisen," Harry guessed._

" _Yes. A new Enemy has arisen from our own children, and we could not destroy them. And so, to avoid the holocaust you saw just now, we fled. We flee even today. But we cannot flee forever."_

 _Harry looked around the room, and with a thought and a tendril of will, the walls fell away to reveal a vast star field. "This is not my reality. Why have you done this to me, Oma?"_

" _You and you alone carry within you knowledge, skills and powers that the universe has not known for billions of years—knowledge that made the Jedi and Sith the most powerful and feared warriors in all of history. It was that power which prompted the Universe itself to destroy the Coruscan galaxy."_

" _But why? For what purpose did you give me this power? Voldemort would never have thought to perform the Sed of Rameses if I hadn't given him the idea of being one with magic through my Force use. Why put me through the hell of Sith training, if it was lost knowledge? Why did that happen to me?"_

" _Because if not you, then whom?" Oma asked in return. "The Great Schism approaches another crisis. The Enemy has grown impatient and hungry for more than we can give."_

" _The Enemy. You mean the forces of darkness?"_

" _In simplistic terms," Oma said. "Our conflict is more broad that good and evil, though. It is more accurately described as entropy versus order. One cannot exist without the other, and yet both are caught in eternal conflict. Order must in time give way to Entropy. Even in the higher realms, the Schism continues. Yet, as combatants grow more powerful, there comes a point where creation itself is endangered. To avoid open war, we cannot intercede directly in the affairs of mortal kind, and so we do not confront the Enemy directly."_

 _And suddenly the pieces fell into place. "But I died. I died when I fell through the Veil, and again when Vader killed me, and a third time when my personality was destroyed. And every time, you were there. To shape me into your weapon, just like Dumbledore before you. Would I have even fallen through the Veil if you didn't interfere?"_

" _I don't know," Oma said. "We could not act without your own cooperation. Don't you remember, Harry? You chose to follow your godfather despite knowing the danger. And you chose to return to your Earth despite the danger of your Sith personality matrix. And you have a choice to make here as well."_

" _What choice? I am an ascended being. You can't make me do anything."_

" _You are not fully ascended," Oma said. "Not yet. But you are also no longer mortal. You have accomplished something only one other has done, and you accomplished this feat by yourself. You have partially ascended within a living, breathing body. You have moved beyond mere magic or the Force, but have become an avatar of both. Yet you are still bound by your mortal passions and motivations; you are bound within a corporeal form. Yes, your hands are covered in blood. You kill without remorse or even consideration as any weapon must. You could have seen your entire world burn to gain victory. But you didn't. You chose to accept exile for the sake of those you loved. You love sparingly, but those who have your love you love absolutely and without limit."_

" _I'm not done with Earth yet," Harry said darkly. "The magical world hasn't seen the last of me—I will get back to my world somehow. That war is not over."_

 _The candle threw odd shadows across her face as she leaned over. "But it is, Harry. As you said, this is not your reality. You are out of context. The wormhole you traversed passed too close to a supernova, something that would never have happened if the Tau'ri used an actual dialing device instead of their home-grown computer. The explosion did not just throw you out of time, but out of reality as well. In this reality, you and your wives are the only ones of your kind. As you discovered when you went back to Earth._

" _That first vision you saw of the battle against Ra happened in both worlds. But in this dimension, Ra retaliated with a biological agent that targeted only those bearing magical genes. In the course of an hour he wiped all magic from the Earth. In this reality, there are no witches and wizards. There is only you, and those women whom you love. And by their own actions and yours, you shall never have children together. The weapon will never propagate. All those who knew of the Sed of Rameses are dead, and because you have left that reality, the Enemy no longer searches for you there. That reality has been made safe by your absence. It is cruel, perhaps, but it was necessary. And now that you are here, your power could be used for a greater good."_

" _I've noticed that term is misleading," Harry said darkly. "What if I tell you to fuck off and ascend anyway? Could you stop me?"_

" _By myself, no. But you will not ascend as an Ancient, Harry. Such an act would turn you forever to darkness. You would ascend as the Enemy, and that act of ascension would begin the very war we swore to avoid. And so it comes back to free will. We cannot stop you from ascending—you are too powerful. But if you do so, you will be initiating a war that will destroy everything you love."_

 _Such as Hermione and Luna, went the unspoken thought. "You need me to choose?"_

" _You must."_

" _Then it is no choice," Harry said. "The whole universe would be nothing for me without them. Do what you must, just send me back to my wives."_

" _As great as your potential for evil and violence is your gift for love," she said. "Your choice has been accepted. We will see each other again."_

 _The candle flickered and died, and everything went dark._


	24. The Sword of Heaven

A/N: Chap 23 review responses are in my forums. As for this chapter-Chap 23 set the stage, this chapter sets the course.

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 **Chapter Twenty-Four: The Sword of Heaven**

Ishta stepped through the gate and onto her old home world wearing an intense frown. Just seeing the twin Ziggurats reminded her too strongly of when her father presented her to Moloc upon her age of Prata.

She remembered the beatific smile Moloc wore when he looked upon her for the first time, and her initial joy that her god smiled upon her; that he found her pleasing to look upon. She even somehow managed to maintain her devotion and joy when he took her that first, painful time. The joy and devotion only began to pale when the smile faded and harsh words ordered her to the slave quarters, where she remained for the next ten years, kept among the harem he used both for himself and those he favored. Worse yet, he often killed girls from the Harem who failed to please him, so over the whole seraglio hung a deep feeling of dread.

With effort, she dismissed the memory as she stepped through the monoliths that ringed the gate. The early evening sun cast Tilgath's lone ha'tak in a golden light that reflected down into the plaza, as if blessing those gathered there. Darkness would be falling within the next half hour or sooner.

"By Anshur's flame," Kisher Lomet whispered from beside her, while the rest of the Parliamentary Council joined them.

Humans filled the plaza between the town and the Ziggurats, thousands of them on their knees bowing to the ziggurats as if in the deepest prayer. More telling still, Ishta could recognize hundreds if not thousands of Byrsa among them, as well as more than a few Mal Jaffa.

"What are they doing?" the Hebridan immigrant Councilor, Donin Hesteride, whispered to the Tau'ri Councilor, Catherine Littlefield.

The older human woman was one of the most educated and intelligent humans Ishta had ever met, and though she did not like the way she threw herself at her doddering old husband, Ishta had come to respect the woman's wisdom. She looked at the humans who bent over prostrate on the packed soil of the plaza, and her eyes narrowed. "They're praying."

"To what?" The Hebridan shrugged in confusion. "I thought Potter killed the local god."

"They're praying to Potter," Melburn Jackson, the second Tau'ri, said. "They view him as a messianic figure. His Goa'uld name, Akai'kheb, literally denotes a psychopomp, a divine being whose role is to escort souls to the afterlife. When Hermione passed word that he was walking on Kheb, these people took it to mean that he is _literally_ walking on Kheb."

As the educated men from Goa'uld-free worlds spoke, Ishta glanced to the Byrsa on the council—Himilco, Dessa, and a second couple, Hilit and Maron. The four of them looked intensely uncomfortably with the casual discussion of the Akai'kheb.

From their faces and body language, Ishta knew the four very much wanted to join their brethren to pray as well. Passing on to the last members of the council, her eyes settled on Bra'tac and Teal'c. Teal'c's face was unreadable as always. She admired his silent strength. Bra'tac, however, was nodding to himself and muttering as he looked across the field of bodies, as if finding it just and right that people should pray to the Akai'kheb.

The last member of the council was a former human slave of Moloc, Donin Hettle. He looked at the ziggurats with the same fear and distrust Ishta herself felt.

Before Ishta could say anything, Tel'gat and three other Rangers arrived in their mottled, odd uniforms. "Councilors, we apologize for not arriving sooner," she said with a respectful nod. "The Lady Hermione has asked us to escort you to the Ha'tak. Food and refreshments are waiting."

Kisher, as the Chairman of the Council, nodded regally and led the other eleven, while around them more rangers fell into a protective position. Although, given the silent, prostrate figures around them, Ishta doubted they were in any danger.

The signs of the recent combat where everywhere—scorch marks and burned or collapsed buildings in the city. Ishta saw a blackened area of dirt to the west of the plaza where the bodies of the fallen Jaffa of Tilgath were burned. Byrsa soldiers stood at every entry point of the ziggurats, armed with the Hebridan-designed, Lomet-produced carbines that the Kalmah army used.

Still, in the week since Tilgath died and Potter collapsed, much had been done for the former slaves of the Goa'uld. Those Jaffa who had surrendered were allowed to stay with their families while Mal Jaffa discussed with them the treatments that would free their children from the taint of Goa'uld slavery.

But despite what should have been an overwhelming victory, a pall hung over the city with the realization that the Akai'kheb had fallen.

The Council members walked directly to the ha'tak ziggurat and were shown into the dark, narrow stone halls until they came to the ring platform that would take them into the Ha'tak itself. In moments, the rings transported them into a spacious chamber originally used to assemble attacking Jaffa, but which now held a round table, chairs, food and refreshments.

The Hok'tar, Hermione Potter, stood in a corner speaking with a young girl of perhaps fourteen in a modest, hand-woven dress. From the girl's attentive stance and demure, down-cast eyes, Ishta guessed her to be a former personal slave of Tilgath's. The girl nodded at Hermione's last words and discreetly left.

"Hello, everyone," the Akai'kheb's companion said with a smile that looked patently false, even for her. "Please help yourselves to food and drink. I certainly will—I haven't had a chance to eat anything since last night."

"You do look tired, Hermione," Catherine Littlefield said as they settled into the space. "Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"Sleep?" Hermione chuckled as if at a joke while preparing a plate of food. "I haven't slept since Harry collapsed. Either Luna or I have to be awake and by him at all times, and the other has to supervise the occupation. Fortunately we don't really have to sleep—or at least, I don't. Luna's prescience isn't as effective unless she gets a few hours."

With that sobering note, the others gathered food for themselves and sat around the table. Executive sessions of the council were often done over meals, though Ishta personally found it distasteful. Still, she ate sparingly with the rest while studying Hermione intently. The woman put on a brave face, but after five years of working closely with her Istha could see the signs of stress and worry.

"Does the Akai'kheb live?" she asked after several minutes of eating.

Hermione's hand shook as she sipped weak wine from a golden chalice that obviously belonged the ha'tak's former owner. "That's not an easy question to answer, Istha. Not for Harry."

"You and your man created this council to help rule Kalmah," Ishta pointed out. "If we cannot be made to understand, then what hope do you have of the people out there, who fall on their knees praying for a man they worship as their new god? Either he lives, or he is dead."

Ishta knew her words angered Hermione, but did not regret them. Though the woman looked like a teenager, Ishta knew in fact she was approaching three decades. She was no mere girl. With thin lips and a flat stare, Hermione said, "The problem with your question, Istha, is that Harry has died before. It doesn't seem to take with him."

Most on the council knew at least the bare narrative of Harry's story. "So he has died," Ishta said.

"Luna and I are maintaining his heart beat," Hermione confirmed. "Just like we did when we first arrived on Kalmah, and the Byrsa found us. He died then as well. Before that, he died as a teenager, and again came back to us forty-two days later. And every time he's died and returned, he's a little different."

"How so?" Catherine asked.

"He's…"

"He's more powerful." The Lady Luna stepped into the room, her already narrow face drawn with exhaustion. "He's stabilized at the moment," she added to Hermione as she walked to the food and fixed herself a plate. The others watched in silence as the seeming waif of a girl sat down with a tired sigh.

Despite her issues with the whole situation, Ishta found it oddly relieving that the hok'tar fixed their own food and had the council do the same, rather than have slaves serve them.

"So his body lives, then," Bra'tac said with a satisfied mind. "Why do you think then he is dead?"

"We can feel every one of you," Luna said between bites of bread, cheese and fruit. "Every sentient being as a presence. A _ki_ , the Jaffa call it. You, Catherine and Melbourn, might call it your soul. Hermione, Harry and I can sense that energy within all of you. More—we can often sense the consciousness itself—thoughts and feelings. We said Harry was walking on Kheb because we cannot feel his soul at all. It's left his body, and we can't even imagine where it is right now."

"You know, ma'am, I and the rest of the Hebridan ex-patriots have always been a little uncomfortable with the…spiritual parts of your leadership," Dannin Hesteride said carefully. He was a compact man of forty years with short, sandy hair graying at the temples. "I mean, I've heard wild stories. Flying and self-powered teleportation and all sorts of interesting things. But what it sounds like, to me, is that Potter is brain-dead. And if you remove the mythos, that means he's not fit to lead. And without a constitution or charter in place yet, that brings up a very big question of who is actually in charge here."

"Hermione, we don't wish to be insensitive," Catherine added quickly. "But none of us can sense the things you can. We only have your word for what's happening. And it doesn't sound if even you're sure of whether he's coming back."

Ishta noted how Luna actually seemed to sag a little, while Hermione sat up straighter. "Catherine, he is my husband. More than that—he's my best friend. I've known him in one incarnation or another since I was eleven years old and he fought a ten-foot tall mountain troll to save me."

"Don't forget the basilisk when he was twelve," Luna said. She then yawned. "Excuse me."

"Basilisk?" Melburn asked.

"Magical serpent that can kill with its gaze," Hermione said. "Harry was twelve, and he killed it with an enchanted sword to save his best friend's little sister. His whole life, he's been faced with insurmountable challenges, from the prophecy that led to his parent's death to his own death and rebirth. If this had never happened before, I would be devastated. But it _has_ happened before, and he's come back to us stronger each time. I'm tired, and I miss my love terribly, but I know he is coming back. As surely as I know that the sun will set tonight."

Ishta was about to comment on how faith had a habit of twisting perceptions when Luna suddenly paled, grabbed her head and screamed. Hermione herself had jumped up, her face ashen. The other councilors also stood, alarmed by the uncharacteristic display. "What is it?" Ishta demanded.

"Harry…" Hermione said. "He's awake."

"He's….Hermione, he's too powerful!" Luna moaned as if in pain. "We can't maintain the balance. He's slipping! We have to stop him before he kills everything!"

What was most frightening to Ishta was that she was absolutely certain that Luna did not misspeak.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

There was no transition; no warning. One heartbeat, Harry sat in a darkened room on Kheb, and the next he lay panting in a luxurious bed that rivalled even what he and his family enjoyed in their holiday retreat in Indonesia.

He did not move at first; could not, in fact. All thoughts of Tilgath were gone, but in its stead were memories he never knew he possessed. He could feel many of them slipping away—knowledge of things so far beyond the ken of mortal man he let much of it go without resisting just because the knowledge itself was terrifying.

But some of it he clung to tenaciously, wrapping the kernels of understanding or knowledge jealously in his Occlumancy until he'd absorbed it so thoroughly the Higher Realms could no longer reclaim it as their own. He felt like Prometheus, stealing the fire of the gods.

More than the knowledge; more than the memories—Harry felt the deepest, most profound rage he had ever felt in his life. The rage burned brighter and harder than anything his old Sith-self could have summoned. He now knew, beyond any possibility of denial, that he had been chosen by the gods themselves to suffer as no man had suffered. It wasn't for him to just die—he had to die again and again until he was sharpened into just the weapon they needed to fight their battles for them. He wanted very much to kill someone at that moment.

He stood up then and looked down at his nakedness with a sneer. _What is your name?_ The question came as a ghostly whisper in the back of his mind—from the leering grin of a wicked old man.

 _To have a name, one must be strong and unrelenting. You are weak and broken. You have always been weak, and you are weak now._

Harry made a fist and summoned fire. It was neither magic nor the Force; it was an expression of Will and Power. The fire coalesced around his fist, flicking in the gloom of late evening. With his other hand he made a second fist, and summoned yet more fire.

 _All the power in the galaxy is nothing if held in the hands of a weak child,_ his old master told him, cackling.

Harry walked toward the nearest of the windows that lined the room. They sloped inward, and even angled as they were the openings were ten feet tall. He stood on the edge of the rail and looked out over a primitive town of mud brick and straw dwellings, filled with slaves as if out of the Old Testament that his Aunt Petunia would occasionally read. Was he their Moses, come to give them the law of the gods? Their Messiah?

Rage burned. He could almost feel the staffs as the Imperial Guardsmen violated him at the Emperor's orders; he could feel Drayneen's contempt as she raped him again and again. Vader's cold dismissal as he died in a galaxy two billion years dead. _They_ sent him there. Oma Desala and the Ancients sent him to that hellish place because they wanted him trained as a Sith.

 _You're still angry, Harry. Are you going to fuck me now until I'm so bruised I can't walk? She's all that's kept you from murdering people here before. Is she enough?_

Startled, Harry looked back to the empty bed, half-expecting Luna. He didn't even know how many days he'd been out. Frowning, he looked back out among the city, and only then did he notice fires burning in the broad plaza that separated the ziggurats from the town. The western horizon glowed with the last vestiges of the day, but in the city darkness had already fallen.

People had gathered in the plaza, thousands of people. He stood in the shadows, nothing more than a distant silhouette to them, but he could see them all as if they were illuminated by the noon-day soon.

They had come for him. Their Messiah. Their Bridge Unto Heaven.

 _But you are also no longer mortal,_ Oma had told him _. You have accomplished something only one other has done, and you accomplished this feat by yourself. You have partially ascended within a living, breathing body. You have moved beyond mere magic or the Force, but have become an avatar of both._

They forged in him a weapon, sent to fight a war the Ancients themselves could not. Abruptly, the rage burned into something else—anticipation. It felt as if Dumbledore, the Emperor and Vader himself had all stepped back and told him, "Gloves are off. Do what you will."

He _was_ the Akai'kheb. No, he was more than that. He was the Shikra'kheb. He was the Sword of Heaven.

With barely a thought, he caused the air around him to burst into a brilliant white flame. As hot as the fire was, it did not burn him. He harnessed this odd new reality that straddled a path between Force and Magic and rose into the air like a rising star. Looking down, he could see the people illuminated by his light as they rose to their feet, pointing and shouting.

He could see his own soldiers rushing into the plaza too see what the disturbance was about. But that was not his concern at the moment. He continued to rise until he was at the same level as the top of the Ha'tak, and as the fire burned around him, he looked around the world of Tilgath and saw what the Goa'uld had seen—a world rich in mineral wealth. Tilgath planned to use that wealth to ascend to the ranks of the System Lords.

Harry was going to use that wealth to forge an Empire, and using that Empire like a saber, he was going to destroy the Enemies Oma showed him.

With a thought, he let himself descend to the plaza where his people watched on their knees. He gathered the fire, manipulating it like thread until it clothed his body. It was not transfiguration or even conjuration, but something much more elemental and permanent. By the time he landed, he wore black robes that nonetheless glowed with a memory of the flame they were made from.

The people stared, their hands clasped to their chins in prayer. "Akai'kheb!" the nearest called. "Akai'kheb comes back to us!"

They parted like the sea before Moses, reaching out but not daring to touch because of the heat that rolled off his new-forged robes. He looked at them all, and within them he saw thousands of tiny sparks of light. In his memories, he saw the Enemy pulling and feeding on those sparks to become stronger while the Ancients caressed the sparks into becoming more; becoming strong enough to Ascend beyond the mortal coil.

 _Luminous beings we are._

He stopped and watched as the people gathered all around him, a sea of souls tuned attentively to him. It came to him as a shock to realize that he too could reach out and steal those sparks for his own power. He would truly be a god, then, wouldn't he? He could feed on the souls of his followers the same way the Goa'uld did.

 _Such an act would turn you forever to darkness._ Oma's words echoed in his mind _. You would ascend as the Enemy, and that act of ascension would begin the very war we swore to avoid. And so it comes back to free will. We cannot stop you from ascending—you are too powerful. But if you do so, you will be initiating a war that will destroy everything you love._

Is this how the Enemy was born? The realization that the most powerful force in the Universe was not magic, nor the Force, but the souls of the living? It would be so easy.

"Without balance, the world will suffer and die at your hands. We are the moons to your sun."

It startled him to realize that it was not a voice in his head or a memory that spoke. He turned and saw Hermione and Luna there, side by side, watching him. They seemed to understand his temptation, or at least sensed that he stood on a brink of something profound and dark.

"I remember now," he told them. Intentionally or not, his voice rang out like a cannon blast. "I remember everything."

"What do you remember, Harry?" Luna asked. Somehow, her voice also carried over the crowds. Was she using a _Sonorous_ , or was he doing it unconsciously?

"I remember where I went each time I died," he said. "Through the Veil, I died. The Ancients took me and sent me back. Each time I died, they brought me to Kheb and shaped me. The people call me the Bridge Unto Heaven, but they were wrong. I am not a bridge. I am their weapon. I am the Shikra'kheb. They forged me to fight their war. Everything that happened to me is their fault."

Again the rage began to flicker within him. Without words, Hermione and Luna stepped forward and took his arms, safe from his magic within the shells of their own protective charms. At their touch, the rage began to cool as Oma's words sank into him. His choice was the power of the gods, or the lives of those he loved. Like the mere humans around him, he saw the sparks of energy within these two women and saw within them a reflection of his own roaring fire.

Godhead, or love?

The Sith would not have hesitated. Nor would the old Harry Potter. But the Akai'kheb felt pulled apart as the divergent poles of his personality fought against each other for opposing goals. He was barely aware of the people backing away in alarm as the fire around the three of them burned even brighter.

"Show us, Harry," Luna whispered. Her voice no longer rang through the plaza.

"Show us," Hermione agreed.

And so, within the bonds they forged over years, he showed them. He showed them the death of wizard kind on Earth at Ra's hands. He showed them his fading memories of Kheb, and the startlingly clear memories of the Enemy. Finally, he presented them the choice he was faced with and how that dark core of his being longed for the fires of godhead.

The vision faded as he felt Hermione's lips on his—a gentle, loving kiss. Luna followed, and when he blinked back the vision he saw the two of them staring at him with expressions of utter love and devotion. "Where you go, we follow," Hermione whispered.

There was no conscious decision, because despite the Ancient's best efforts, the darkness within him was never as strong as his love for the two women in his life. The burning power faded away. His vision of the souls around him faded into the normal gloom of evening, and the last shreds of his Ascended power left him. The sudden absence made him feel weak, cold and empty.

The moment had passed. Harry Potter would not be a god. At least, not today.


	25. The Gospel According to Luna Lovegood

A/N: Chap 24 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for all who caught the Atlas/Prometheus faux pas in the previous chapter. While I don't stress over typos, that one was sufficiently embarrassing to warrant a fix :)

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 **Chapter Twenty-Five: The Gospel According Luna Lovegood**

Despite everything she had seen the three leaders do; despite knowing they were more than human, Jaffa or even Goa'uld, it still woke in Ishta a deep, profound fear when she and the councilors arrived in the former personal quarters of Tilgath to find steam rising off Harry Potter's body. The air around him shimmered from a heat that poured off him so intensely it felt as if they were approaching a bonfire.

The Akai'kheb had his feet in a large bowl of ice water that one or the other of his companions continued to cool with their magic. He had over his bare torso a thick blanket which the other kept soaked with ice-cold water. And despite this, the heat continued to poor off him.

Like the others, Ishta had run to the ring room and returned to the ground level just in time to see the brilliant, flaming white star that was Harry Potter land and walk among the praying people. She heard his voice reverberate through the air—he did not yell, and yet she was fairly certain every being on the planet heard him. The implications of both his words and his display of power were terrifying.

Seeing the evidence that he had indeed experienced something beyond human understanding left her numb with awe and fear she never felt in the presence of Moloc.

"…edge of ascension," Hermione was explaining to the Council tiredly. "His physical body was never intended to hold that kind of power—no mortal form is. He chose not to—he chose to come back to us. But the power he touched has stressed him terribly. We need to drain the residual heat from his core."

Worse yet was how casually the two women spoke of their husband standing on the brink of true godhead, the likes of which not even the Goa'uld could imagine.

The rest of the Council stood around as astonished and fearful as she; the Byrsa clumped together and looked as if they were about to fall to their knees and begin praying. The Hebridan looked worried and confused, while the two Tau'ri looked worried and astonished.

"I still do not understand, though," Bra'tac said in response to the Companion's words. "He stood on the cusp of godhood! I am grateful he returned, but I do not understand why."

For the first time since they arrived, the Akai'kheb spoke. Unlike before, his voice now sounded thready and weak, and he had to pause as his teeth chattered from the combination of raging fever and the ice his women used to treat him.

"The Ancients made it clear if I ascended, it would not be as an Ancient."

That made even Bra'tac blink in surprise. "If not an Ancient, then what?" Ishta asked.

Somehow, it did not surprise Ishta when Luna responded. Over the past five years, she had come to understand that each of the three had their strengths and weaknesses. Hermione was most at ease explaining technical issues; Potter with large-scale plans, strategy or tactics; and Luna was best when discussion motivations, feelings or thoughts.

"He shared his memories with us," Luna said softly; tiredly. Yet everyone in the room hung on her words. She looked down on her husband with a tenderness and worry that no Goa'uld could ever emulate. "It's difficult to discuss what happened last night without context."

"Luna, this isn't…" Hermione began.

"Tell them," Harry whispered, cutting them off. He stood, the icy blanket still over his shoulder, and stumbled out of the pot of water. "I need an ice bath. The blanket isn't enough—I can feel my kidneys trying to fail."

Any concern Hermione had over what Luna would say evaporated as she rushed to Harry's side and the two walked together toward Tilgath's massive washroom. In their absence, Luna brandished a Goa'uld hara'kesh and casually vanished the tub of ice water as if it never existed before sinking into the chair her husband occupied moments before. Looking about, she waved her hand again and suddenly couches appeared. In the years Ishta had known them, she had rarely seen them use such power. Often they would move things with their power, but rarely make things come into existence. It startled the Hebridan councilor so much he yelped.

"Sit, please," Luna said softly. "Harry needs you to know and understand, because what he experienced during his last death has changed him; changed his motivations and plans. Sitat?"

The girl Ishta saw Hermione speak to earlier appeared as if by magic, hands held in front of her with her head bowed. "Sitat, dear, could you have some wine and more food brought in, please?"

"At once, _Anu_." The girl disappeared again to set about her business.

Luna smiled fondly after her. "Tilgath's _lotar._ He liked his slaves young, female and naked. But Sitat has potential."

Moments later more servants brought in food and wine on a platter, and despite it only being an hour since her last meal, Luna once again ate a healthy serving of everything. The rest of the Councilors, needing another type of fortification, took wine.

Except, of course, for Teal'c, Bra'tac and Ishta. Despite everything, the Jaffa never refused food, since training and experience demonstrated they could never depend on their next meal.

"First, I think it only fair to tell you about our world and our people," Luna said after she'd consumed half her plate. "Some of this you've already heard. You, Catherine and Melburn, know more than most just because we are all from Earth. Harry, Hermione and I were part of a sub-species of Tau'ri called wizard kind. We were born as witches and wizards, able to harness and use a power we simply called magic. And by our calendar, we will not be born yet for another five or six years."

"I don't understand, my lady," Teal'c said in his deep, stoic voice.

"It will come," Luna promised.

Ishta and the rest of the Council listened, enthralled, by the harrowing story of Harry Potter and his companions. Luna spoke clearly; sometimes the cadence of her words took on a musical quality as if the story were being driven by divine inspiration rather than by memory alone. She spoke of the prophecy that marked Harry's birth and some of his early adventures. She then spoke of the events leading to his first and second death, and how first Hermione and then Luna became joined with him, both out of love and a hope to contain the darkness that he had returned from his first death.

When she came to the more recent history, she faltered for the first time.

"I don't think even we knew for sure what we were," Luna admitted. "We'd become something more through our own actions, and our bond with Harry. We are, as far as we know, immortal. Harry shared many of the powers he'd learned so long ago in that galaxy so far, far away. We were far more powerful than our peers. Yet for all our power and immortality, we were still so very young. In our rush to make our world better, we failed to account for those who liked it the way it was. We were betrayed; we were betrayed by our closest, most beloved friends."

Luna roused herself from the obviously painful memory and looked at the three Jaffa.

"Thousands of years ago, wizards very much like us created the most powerful magic our world had ever known—the Bane of Ra. It was this bane which drove Ra from Earth and freed us. In our world, Ra left and never returned, and our ancestors continued to grow and spread across the world until wizard kind developed modern societies. Our enemies used this same Bane against Harry. It forced us to leave the Earth forever, but in so doing it ruptured his heart. When we arrived on Cartego, he had once again died and ascended to Kheb. Eventually, as you know, he came back to us. We returned to Earth, hoping to exact revenge and to make sure those we left behind were well cared for. And that is when we discovered that the Ancients had once again interceded.

"The world we returned to was different than what we left. In our world, Ra left in defeat. But in this new world, Ra returned and avenged himself with a biological agent that obliterated our entire race thousands of years ago. Even more so, we found ourselves in a world without magic almost thirty years back in time. In our time, Catherine here had already died of old age. Because of Ra and the Ancients, we three are the only ones of our kind in the galaxy. And because of our immortality and Harry's concern over what would happen if we did, we cannot naturally have children. It was exactly what the Ancients wanted."

"But why?" Catherine asked. "Why would these Ancients do any of this? Why not let you have children?"

"Would you want your gun to be able to multiply?" Luna asked, true bitterness tinting her voice for the first time. "All of this—everything Harry and us experienced—was to create a weapon. The Ancients have an enemy, you see. The Enemy. Ascended beings just like them, but who feed and grow strong on the souls of mortals, rather than aiding those souls to Ascension. The Enemy and the Ancients have battled for eons against each other, but only indirectly. If they were to fight directly, they would unmake creation itself."

She shuddered and looked around the room, locking each in a strong gaze. "What you saw earlier was possibly the most important decision ever made in this Galaxy. Harry is so powerful that the Ancients could not prevent him from Ascending any more. They could not cast him out of Kheb. But if he Ascended, it would not be as an Ancient. Because of how he has been shaped—because of how the Ancients took a good, selfless hero and turned him into a weapon—if he were to Ascend, it would be as the Enemy. And that act would start a war that would end all existence. What Hermione and I felt last night was the longing in part of him to do just that. He could have consumed the souls of everyone on his planet in a second, and risen not just to be an Enemy, but to become one of the most powerful of them. But in so doing, he would have lost Hermione and I. And so he chose to return, because as much hate and rage as he has, his love for us is just enough to maintain the balance."

Silence followed the last for several long, heavy seconds. "That's…that's a lot to take in," Hesteride finally said.

"I know," Luna admitted. "And I'm sorry that you're only now hearing of it. I do not believe the Ancients wanted Harry to know the full truth, but he grew so powerful they had no choice but to share and hope he chose wisely. If Hermione and I weren't there, I'm not sure he would have."

She drained her wine and stood, hugging herself as she slowly paced behind the chair.

"So what does this mean for Kalmah?" Ishta asked, as always leaning toward the practical.

"It means that we can no longer just be concerned with Kalmah," Luna said. "Ishta, why do you think the Ancients would create such a weapon, if they did not intend to use it?"

Ishta felt her chest tighten. "The Enemy is coming," she supposed.

"The Enemy is coming. And they terrify me." The confession startled everyone. Luna continued to pace. "They are gods. They can kill and revive the fallen. They will convert worlds to their path, and have access to technology millions of years more advanced than the Goa'uld. And they will come to conquer this galaxy. If life and creation itself is to survive, then we must be ready."

She stopped and then looked directly at Ishta again, as if she knew the Jaffa was the lynchpin of the council. "A charter for a free society is not enough. You're now charged with creating a Charter for Empire. Harry is going to have to wrest control of the galaxy from all the Goa'uld, because he is going to need all the Jaffa and all the humans united together to fight the Enemy."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Hermione didn't know when she fell asleep, but when she woke she could see late morning sunlight shining through the windows of their new Ha'tak. Even without looking, she knew Harry had left the bed and was meditating nearby. She knew because the meditation had an almost desperate feeling in the Force.

What she did feel next to her, though, was an emotionally and physically exhausted Luna. Hermione leaned over and kissed the smaller woman's forehead before padding out of bed herself. She was clad in a shimmering, nearly transparent gown that obviously came from Tilgath's seraglio, but she didn't care at the moment. The fabric felt softer than silk.

Harry himself sat nude in the lotus position with his back to the window. The sunlight shone down on his broad, muscular shoulders and made his hair look almost blue.

She came and sat cross-legged across from her husband, and in so doing suddenly realized he had aged, though only just. Instead of looking like a man in his late teens, he now looked like a man in his early twenties. She wondered briefly if he had somehow lost the seeming immortality he had gained with his power ritual back on Earth. After all, none of them truly knew if they would live forever. It was possible that the Philosopher's stone in their chest would only last a few centuries. It was possible Harry would reach a century and just fall over dead, even if he only looked twenty. They just didn't know.

"It was the power," Harry said, easily sensing her disquieting thoughts. His voice didn't just sound hoarse; it cracked as if just speaking were difficult. "Part of ascension is the conversion of the flesh to energy. My body was burning so hot it aged me."

"Will you recover?"

"Once aging has occurred, it can't be undone," Harry said. "But five years of aging doesn't worry me."

He opened his eyes, and in the Force Hermione sensed a deep, visceral sense of both self-hatred and longing. _He still wanted the power._

"I could taste it," he whispered. "Merlin, Hermione, I could _taste_ their souls. It would have been so easy. Even knowing it would be the death of you and Luna, I wanted it so much. I _want_ it still!"

Through their bond, she could sense how much the admission pained him. He hated himself for wanting something that would have killed the women he loved. Without a word, Hermione stood and settled back down straddling his lap. She kissed him tenderly, and made love to him with a slow gentleness that was all too rare in their coupling. She had to be gentle—his body was still too fragile for anything too energetic.

When they finished, and she had both arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, she whispered into his ear. "The fact it was so hard for you, and you chose us anyway, makes me love you even more, Harry. We will be with you, even if it takes forever. The stars alone know how long we'll be together, but however long it is, I will _always_ love you. If you're ever tempted again, we will be there with you. Moons to your star."

Instead of speaking, Harry held her so close every inch of their perspiring bodies touched, and rested his head on her shoulder. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'm even human anymore," he said softly.

"You don't have to be human, Harry. You just have to be mine."

"Ours," a sleepy Luna said as she plopped down naked beside them. "No fair sneaking off for a shag."

Harry chuckled, his face still buried in Hermione's shoulder. The sound choked, though.

"Harry?" Hermione said, concerned by what she felt from him.

"I almost killed you both. I _wanted_ to kill you."

"You wanted power," Luna pointed out in an oddly matter-of-fact tone. "Our deaths would have been a consequence. You never directly wanted us dead. And you turned down that power to save us. Some self-flagellation is warranted, I suppose, but let's not be too dramatic."

Harry parted, his nose and eyes red, and both he and Hermione turned and stared at Luna as if she'd grown a second head. She met their gaze squarely for almost half a minute before her stoic expression broke and she started laughing. It sounded hysterical even to Luna herself.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Late into the evening during the second week of the Kalhu occupation, when the village and all but a small handful of guards were asleep, Harry, Hermione and Luna sat around what could only be called Tilgath's personal computer. The computer was actually a complex, insanely powerful crystalline matrix that in and of itself held as much data and had as much processing power as every computer on Earth combined, with processing speeds so fast they approached quantum speeds.

For all the primitive aspects of Goa'uld culture, when they employed technology, they employed the best. With Tilgath's stolen memories and access codes, Harry was able to enter the Goa'uld's files easily.

"Tilgath had four thousand Jaffa, including the females and children, and eighteen thousand or so human salves," Hermione read, scanning quickly through her section of files.

"Ahh, this is important," Luna noted. "Tilgath was required to pay a tithe of naquedah to Ra equal to ten tons annually." She sat up and popped her back. "If what I read is correct, he's already far behind on his mining for the year. There was a flu that slowed work down for two months. Many slaves died."

"But aside from his naquedah problem," Hermione noted, "Tilgath had a great deal of mineral wealth. I think we could afford that mining ship you wanted, Harry."

Harry, though, was absorbed in something else. He looked at the two, then back down at files he was reading. "Have either of you heard of the Tollan?"

His wives shook their heads. "Why?" Hermione asked.

"According to Tilgath's records, the Goa'uld have occasionally tried to attack the Tollan. Every time, their ha'tak's are destroyed by heavy ion cannons, while their own weapons are rendered useless by a planetary shield."

He looked up at the two of them, who stared back. "Ion cannons?" Hermione asked.

"Planetary shields?"

Harry grinned. "The Goa'uld are terrified of them. They're the most advanced species they've encountered beside the Asgard."

"Harry, the Asgard," Hermione said. "Do you think they would help us?"

"They were involved in some war in another galaxy, if I remember the files at Stargate Command correctly," Luna said. "I doubt they would be interested in helping. Nor would the Jaffa be very willing to join the Asgard."

"Just being able to buy that mining ship from the Hebridan will be a huge leap," Harry muttered as he continued to think about potential allies. "I don't want to mine livable planets more than necessary, not when there are so many asteroids we can use first. The Hebridan design is not as self-sufficient as I'd like, but I can use it as a starting template to make a true mining droid. If we can get a regular flow of raw materials, then we can start production whole-sale for arms."

"Not to mention the trickle-down effect more production facilities will have on the civilian economy," Hermione said. "We have some ownership in every major corporation in Kalmah right now."

Harry nodded. Given their own business experiences, it was only natural that they ensure personal stakes in the Lomet Corporation, as well as the other smaller companies that had sprouted up over Kalmah with the introduction of more people from varied backgrounds. Most were still agricultural combines, but the Hebridan immigrants brought quite a few businessmen with them.

"Still, I think these Tollan have…"

Harry stopped and looked up at the sound of a loud knock. A moment later Kisher Lomet bustled in. The man had lost weight since moving to Kalmah, and had gained gray in his beard, but his weight loss was not due to illness, but rather exercise and healthier living. And as their _de facto_ Prime Minister, his health was in their best interest.

"I apologize for interrupting," he said as he strode in. "That poor child, Sitat, was beside herself. I tried to explain that you work late, but still, what can you do?"

"How are things on Kalmah?"

"Jubilant, but nervous," Kisher admitted. "It is no easy thing when you realize your president is a god."

"Not a god," Hermione said.

"Close enough," Kisher said waiving off the distinction. "They will worship you, Akai'kheb. You cannot stop it now, not after what we all saw and heard. But that is a problem for the future. Right now, I have another issue. We have established markets on the trade world of Farber that are doing very well. Well, as it happened Protector First Class Aldal Arda came into a store where Mulla was working and asked for a meeting."

"With you?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"No, dear lady. He asked for the Anu Hermione. Not even I realized this, but because of what you did, Anu, Erid has fallen into Civil War. And he has asked for your help in stopping it."

"Well," Luna said. "I suppose we'll have to stop it, then."

"We're not exactly swimming in resources here," Hermione noted. "We did just invade and conquer a planet."

"Nonsense," Luna said lightly. "We conquered a city. The planet's empty otherwise. But more importantly, Erid has an industrial base and a large, mostly educated population. If they're fighting a civil war because of us, we're responsible for stopping it."

"At the very least, we need to meet with this man," Harry agreed.


	26. Hubris

A/N: Chap 25 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six: Hubris**

Faber, much like Aspiracus and even Bra'tac's Sanctuary, was a discarded world of the Goa'uld. The world once had naquedah deposits which had been exhausted centuries ago, and once the riches were exhausted, the Goa'uld and their slaves left.

In the vacuum that followed, humans trickled back to the world until eventually it became a trading post. It was a colder planet than Aspiracus, but not so cold as to be frozen over. When Harry and Hermione arrived with Kisher Lomet, they found it comparable to a Scottish fall.

Of course, it was the height of that continent's summer, but it was more than bearable at the moment.

Aside from the cold, the trading post itself could have been a clone of what they found on Aspiracus—it had a similar wide central boulevard of packed dirt lined by haphazard warehouses and stores where the merchants did their business. Further in, the streets narrowed and became more spontaneous where people made permanent residence.

The inn they went to was wholly owned by Lomet Enterprises and managed by a trusted Byrsa couple who made sure to dress local and blend in. When Harry and Hermione entered the bustling place, Harry saw the couple had a difficult time _not_ bowing to them.

"Your party is waiting," the wife said with a respectful nod. She led them up a set of solid wooden stairs to a spacious first floor with several rooms for letting. The one she led them to was small but well-appointed, with a feather-mattress bed in a metal frame on one corner, a water bowl and pitcher on a vanity, and a round table in one corner with four chairs around it.

It was from the fourth chair, facing the door, that Aldal Arda rose to his feet to greet them.

The last time Hermione had seen the man, nearly five years before, he'd been tall, straight-backed and healthy, with only a touch of gray in his dark hair. Now he'd gone almost completely gray and lost weight to the point of looking nearly skeletal. More alarming still was the ragged, partially healed scar that ran down the right side of his face, from near his temple to his jaw.

"My old friend," Kisher said as they entered. "The years…they have been cruel."

"To me, perhaps," Aldal said in a voice made hoarse by abuse. "You look good. You lost some of that belly of yours."

He then turned to Hermione, ignoring Harry as one he'd never met. "And you. I've dreamt of meeting you again. In my dreams, I shoot you for all the sorrow you've brought to my world."

That was obviously not the greeting Hermione expected. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember Commander Zindari, the one you bewitched at the gate?" Arda said, heat coloring his tone. "He told everyone of what he saw that night—that the _Anu_ Hermione had foretold of a great danger, and declared Anshur a dead and false god. All the Protectors who were there echoed his words. And so the Temples declared him tainted and publicly beheaded he, his wives and all five of his children. The youngest was only four."

Harry could feel his wife's horror in the Force. But Aldal was not finished.

"Kolan, the shift commander, was also put to death along with his family. When more Protectors protested, Temple Guards began shooting into their formation. The Protectorate fought back, and now the whole of Erid is torn by civil war. The war has lasted these five years now, and I wonder if anyone will live to see it end. And it is your fault. That is why it must be you who ends this war."

"We just destroyed the Goa'uld Tilgath, we don't have the troops to occupy a second world!" Hermione protested.

"I don't care, fix it!" Froth speckled the corners of Aldal's mouth and his eyes burned with desperation and hopeless rage. "You claimed to be a goddess, but your hubris has led to the death of thousands. You must fix it!"

"And who did you lose?" Harry asked in a low, piercing voice.

For the first time Aldal looked at him, and Harry made sure to get the man's attention by very intentionally flashing magic around himself to make the air shimmer. The Protector's eyes widened a little as he stepped back. "My son, Rogan, whom you met, and my second wife, Lyta," he said, the heat fading someone into a soul-crushing despair. "They raided our home and she and Rogan bought time for my first wife and younger children to escape to our stronghold outside the city. You…you are the one Anu Hermione told Kolan about. The Bridge Unto Heaven."

"I am the Akai'kheb," Harry confirmed. "Hermione is my first wife. And she was not lying—then or now. A greater threat is coming, but at the moment we do not have the troops to occupy another planet. Still, we will help you."

"How?" Lomet asked. "We expended almost half of our ammunition in the past two weeks! We are still waiting for the next copper shipment to replace it!"

"No regular troops," Harry said. "I'll take Hermione, Luna, and our rangers only." He turned to stare at Arda. "Do you control the gate?"

"And nothing else," Arda said. "Most of the rest of the Protectors fled the city—those of us who have stayed are being starved out."

Harry stepped toward the man, flashing his magic again. "There will be a price for this help, Aldal Arda. If I help you, Erid will be brought into the Empire of Kheb."

The term was new to Kisher, though both Hermione and Luna knew he'd been thinking about it. "Empire of…" Arda mouthed the term.

"I am a servant of the Ancients," Harry said, his own voice burning with a hint of the rage he still felt toward the ascended beings. "The Gatebuilders themselves, who ascended to true godhood eons before the first Goa'uld took a host. I have been charged with the defense of all humanity in this galaxy against an enemy far beyond the nightmares even of the Goa'uld. If I help Erid, Erid must agree to join my empire."

"What point is freedom if we just surrender it to another?" Arda asked, cowed but not broken by the power Harry projected.

"I think you will find, my old friend, that the Empire of Kheb is far different than what our people suffered under the Goa'uld, or even the temples," Lomet said gently. "I should know—I chair the Council that helps run it."

That made Arda blink and stare at his old friend. "What?"

"You can have the details later," Harry said. "Right now, you have to decide."

"What can just you and your women do?"

"Agree, and you'll find out. If we fail, then you will have lost nothing for the attempt."

Arda fell back into his chair, all sense of fire and rage fading from his face until all that was left was a cold mask of hopelessness. "What choice do I truly have?" he asked. "The Temple guards are burning or beheading anyone they think is not faithful to Anshur. A neighbor's accusation is a death sentence."

Harry nodded. "Kisher, take your friend back to Kalmah and assemble a supply convoy. Food, clothes, medical supplies. Hermione and I will return to Kalhu and prepare." He turned to Arda. "You can take the relief supplies back to Erid with you as soon as they are ready. Expect us to arrive by the gate in two days. And understand, Arda—there is no weapon you possess that can kill me. If you or yours attempt to betray me, I will burn your entire world to ash. Do you understand?"

"More sobering yet, my friend, is that he truly could," Kisher added. "Come, let's get some food for your men. We may not have many bullets at the moment, but our bins bulge with food!"

Arda left, his shoulders bowed, and did not speak. In the silence that followed, Hermione sank down into nearest chair and buried her face in her hands. "This really is my fault!" she moaned. "Harry, I made them think I was a divine being! I started a religious war! All those people are dead because of me!"

"Just like most of Tilgath's Jaffa are dead because of me?" Harry asked her. "Or all the Byrsa Apophis killed because of us, together? You did not make the Temples of Anshur murder all those people. They decided on their own to commit those atrocities. And now, we are going to fix it."

"Harry…" Hermione shook her head. "If not for my direct intervention, none of this would have happened."

"But it did happen," Harry countered. He knelt down and took her hands. "I understand your feelings, Hermione. It may have happened because of you, but you are not responsible for the decisions and actions of those outside of your command. All we can do now is fix it."

"How? There are millions of people on Erid. We have a hundred Rangers and three of us."

He shared a crooked grin. "I'm sure Tel'gat won't be too bored."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Colderon Michel was a Janissary, one of the Chosen of Ansur. He was a blessed initiate in the mysteries of the temple priesthood and secure in both his position and his faith. When the Patriarchs of the Temple ordered the blasphemers to be cleansed, Colderon and his fellow Janissaries fell to the task with all the wrath of the righteous.

He knew some of his colleagues were troubled by the killing of children, but not Colderon. The children of blasphemers were themselves blasphemers, the sins of their fathers carried down to them. The hardest part of beheading a child was just getting them to stay still long enough for a single strike. Colderon did what he did because Ansur demanded it, not because he took pleasure in the pain of those being punished. If the Patriarchs told him his own son was tainted, he would kill the boy just as swiftly, and only afterward grieve that his son had been tainted.

As he walked along the line of pikes that held the heads of the blasphemers, looking across the no-man's land toward the Ekru where the tattered Protector remnants continued to hide, he considered his role as the hand of his god, and thought himself blessed and lucky to be entrusted so. Behind him, the artillery crew fired another round. In the dimming evening light, he saw the shell strike the broken outer ring. More cannons fired, adding their voice to the choir of Ansur's wrath.

They paused, while the next artillery placement down the line fired. There were forty such placements completely surrounding the Mountain House. Since the Temples broke the Protector rebellion eight months ago after years of harsh fighting, the tattered remnants had either fled to the country-side, or taken refuge in the Ekru.

They would cut away the cancer in the center of the city first, and then they would hunt down and destroy the blasphemers that fled.

He turned at the sound of cries from behind their firing line and approached the commotion. Once past the firing lines and the tents housing their infantry team that kept the Protectors so securely trapped, he reached the cobble-stone streets and burned out husks of the houses that once faced the great plaza of the Ekru.

A squad of guards and volunteer soldiers were dragging a screaming family into the street. The two women were screaming in fear, while their husband moved with the silence of one beaten into submission. The man's face looked bloody and swollen. Around them, children screamed for their parents.

"What is happening here?" Colderon demanded.

One of the temple guards looked and saw the crimson stole of his office and knelt. "Blessed, these people have been accused of spreading blasphemy."

"They're lying," one of the women shouted. "Tosa just wanted our shelter, we are faithful! Blessed is Anshur!"

Colderon rolled his eyes. "Shoot the bitch."

Another of the temple guards pulled his revolver and shot the woman casually in the chest, right into her heart, not hesitating a moment. The children screamed louder as they watched their mother fold dead to the cobblestones.

"It is obvious they are blasphemers, if they dare let a woman speak to a Janissary," Colderon said to the guards. "Behead the rest and let their deaths be an example to any who dare spread the blasphemy."

"What blasphemy is that?"

Colderon turned, eyes raised in surprise to be directly addressed by another feminine voice after so thoroughly demonstrating the price of such blasphemy. What he saw was the ultimate heresy. A woman stood before him in pants! Not only pants, but pants and plates of armor over her chest, obviously shaped for a woman, with greaves on her legs and vambraces on her forearms. Her thick, bushy had had been pulled back in a tight bun, exposing the foreign features of her face.

She stood casually, utterly without fear.

"Guards, I see another bitch needs to be taught her place," he said coldly. "Instruct her."

Rather than show fear, the blasphemous whore actually smiled!

She then raised her hand and twisted her wrist. The accompanying sound of snapping behind him made Colderon glance over his shoulder, only to see with confusion the lead temple guard fall to the ground, his head twisted in an odd direction.

When the Janissary looked back at the blasphemer, his heart suddenly shuddered with a deep, profound fear. Where before he saw a simple woman playing male dress-up, now he saw a vision of hell. The creature glowed like a star, floating above the ground. Around her head, a halo of blue fire burned, while her eyes shone with all the wrath of hell.

In the distance, over her shoulder, he saw one of the Temple artillery placements suddenly erupt in an explosion more powerful than anything either their artillery or the Protectors could have produced. Opposite the Ekru, more placements began to explode.

"I gave fair warning of my return," the monstrous creature said in a voice that made the buildings shake around them. "I told you all that Anshur was dead, and that one greater than me would come. What did you do with my messengers? You murdered them; you cut them down in the streets like animals. For that, you have been judged guilty of murder."

"Shoot her!" the Janissary said, finally finding his voice. "Shoot her now!"

The terrified temple guards and the volunteer militia members released the terrified family and struggled to ready their weapons, only for the creature to raise her hands and shower them in a storm of blue lightning. The touch of it was like pure fire that burned through Colderon's body into his very soul. All of them, Janissary, guardsmen and militia alike, all fell to the cobblestones crying in agony.

However, the Janissary was chosen and blessed among other men. With training and the strength of his god, Colderon came to his feet first and reached for his revolver. As he did so, however, he saw the glowing whore of hell spinning among the twenty men of the guards and militia bearing a glowing silver sword that cut them down as if they were wax mannequins.

He heard screams and looked behind him to see yet another glowing figure doing the same to the men left in the artillery placement. He pulled his revolver and unsteadily came to his feet, trying to take a bead on the impossibly fast blur of light, until suddenly she stood before him, blazing swords raised. Behind her, every one of the men laid dead, many in pieces.

Colderon did not hesitate. He fired, but she batted his bullet away with her glowing sword. He emptied the entire clip, but she casually batted each bullet away with contemptuous ease. Finally, when he had no more bullets, Colderon pulled his sacrificial dagger and charged her, only for her to spin away impossibly fast.

He stumbled to a stop, staring down at the charred stump of his right arm. On the ground behind him lay his hand, still clutching his dagger. The whore of hell swung her blade again, and Colderon fell heavily and painfully to the ground beside his severed legs. He gritted his teeth to swallow the pain—he would not give this whore the satisfaction of hearing his screams.

Rather than finish him, though, the creature dismissed her conjured blades of hellfire and walked to the woman his men had shot. Her glow faded as she removed her feminine breastplate armor to expose the mottled uniform below. She opened the shirt up to expose a blasphemous expanse of pale skin.

Colderon, dismembered and all but forgotten, watched in horror as she drew a purple ball of fluid from her own skin and held it hovering in her hand. She leaned over and placed the odd fluid onto the dead woman's chest. In moments, the woman gasped and screamed.

"Peace," the whore of hell said. "You are whole and healed now. Return to your family."

The woman gaped at the shattered bodies around her, then at Colderon himself, before meeting the eyes of her hellish savior. "You…you are the one they spoke of? The _Anu_?"

The whore smiled gently. "I am. The Protectors spoke the truth, and I have returned with one even greater than myself. The Akai'kheb has come to this world, and he is going to tear the temples down. Spread the word—tell them what has happened here. The people must be ready to take their world back from the true blasphemers."

The woman nodded fervently before scrambling back to her feet and running away as if she had not been dead just moments away. The whore of hell pulled her breastplate back on, but her glow did not immediately return as she stepped to Colderon's side. "You have corrupted her soul," he whispered through his own terrible pain. "Necromancy!"

"She wasn't dead yet, actually," the whore said. "While the Goa'uld are willing to bring back the dead, that is one power I refuse to attempt. But sending the damned into death? That is a role I gladly take." She stood and activated her flaming sword, and with casual swipes removed the entirety of his remaining arm, then the remainder of his second. She then cut away the even the stumps of his legs.

However, to his horror, she then removed a tainted Goa'uld device and healed each amputation, ensuring he would not bleed out.

"However," she said, as if speaking to a child, "some evils are too great to warrant a quick death. You, Colderon Michel, are going to live. You are going to see your temples torn down and your god buried. And there will be nothing you can do about it."

With all his might, Colderon turned his now useless body just enough to watch as she disappeared from view with a pop, while all around the Ekru his artillery placements continued to blow up. Tears blurred his vision, not from pain, but from the sight of evil being triumphant over the forces of good.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"It is difficult to believe, Aldal," Protector First Class Bolen Handar said tiredly. With all four of the Protectorate Commanders dead, Handar and Aldal effectively commanded the remnant Protectorate forces. "That just the three of them could do so much."

The two stood in the shattered, unstable remnants of a seventh-story room in the outer shell of the Ekru where artillery bombardment had wreaked the most damage. Both had binoculars to their eyes as they studied the shattered artillery placements of the Temple guards.

When the reinforcements from Kalmah arrived, the two commanders despaired having any hope. Only a hundred soldiers arrived, and of those almost a quarter were _women!_ The sheer idea of a woman in pants, much less a military uniform, shook both men's long-held beliefs. But then the wagons came, each filled with large silver spheres marked by Goa'uld writing and a single large, red eye on each.

Only after the wagons came did the Akai'kheb and his wives join them. All three wore the same uniforms as their soldiers, but with metal breastplates, greaves and vambraces. The breastplates were disconcerting on the two attractive women, being so suggestive of the female form that in Erid society was to be covered at all times in public.

Only as they came closer did Aldal see the densely packed symbols that covered the breastplates. He didn't understand the language, but the armor gave off a strange heat that made him cautious. "Show us where all the enemy placements are, throughout the city," the Akai'kheb said as soon as they met the two commanders.

That very night, Aldal and Bolen watched in astonishment as the three angels each grabbed one of the spheres, activated it so that the red eye glowed brightly, and then each disappeared with a pop. Moments later, they all heard three loud explosions from around the perimeter.

The Akai'kheb and the white-headed woman named Luna returned to take more spheres, and once again disappeared. Astonished, the two commanders and several of their men rushed up the stairs to the seventh floor outer ring and there watched as, bomb-by-bomb, the newcomers destroyed every major artillery placement or barracks in the city. There seemed to be no limit to how far their power reached since the two men could see explosions deep in the city itself.

It continued all night, the three divine beings using a power beyond Aldal's understanding to move the seemingly mundane yet numbingly powerful Goa'uld bombs to select targets, until Aldal doubted a single Temple stronghold remained, save for the temple itself. In the midst of the chaos, the hundred soldiers the three _Anu_ brought with them had slipped out into the night, not to be seen again.

By the time the sun rose, the morning light revealed pillars of smoke all over the city. Close viewing through the binoculars showed no troop movement at all in the enemy placements, but many, many bodies.

"Commander, movement!"

Technically, Aldal was only a Protector First Class, since the Commanders were appointed by the Parliament. However, Parliament was disbanded and the appointed commanders were dead, so Aldal did not speak of it. Instead, he directed his gaze to where the young soldier pointed.

It was one the women soldiers of Kalmah. She stepped out from the siege line with a white sheet in her hand, which she waved at them. "What do you think it means?" Handar asked.

"Let us find out," Aldal said. "Bolen, I believe you should stay here with half the men. I'll take the other have for a sortie in strength."

Bolen gave it only a moment's thought before nodding. "Agreed."

It took twenty minutes to assemble half their men, a mere twenty-five hundred, where once ten thousand called the Ekru home. Aldal led them through the causeway and into the broken, cratered plaza. He saw sadly that the hundreds of severed heads still ringed the area near the siege line, while blackened mounds gave mute evidence of the hundreds of bonfires where the most egregious heretics were burned.

The female captain, whose name Aldal remembered as Tel'gat, walked forward to meet them. She snapped off an odd salute, hand flat and held to her forehead as if to grasp the visor of the odd helmet she wore.

He responded with the chest salute per his own custom, and she did not seem to expect otherwise. "Commander Arda, with respect, I've been ordered to turn the city over to your men."

Aldal blinked. "The city?"

"The last elements of resistance have fled to the temples, Commander," the young captain reported. "My people coordinated a night assault with the Akai'kheb's bombardment. They got most of the men, we cleaned up, and those that survived fled out of formation to the Temple. The Akai'kheb asked that you and your men restore order in the city and take an accounting of the needs of the citizens."

"And the temple?"

"The Akai'kheb and his Companions will deal with it shortly," Tel'gat said.

It seemed to be too good to be true, but the fact no one was firing at him gave credence to her words. "Very well, Captain. On behalf of the Protectorate of Erid, I accept occupancy of the city and will comply with the Akai'kheb's request."

"The city is yours," she said, saluting one more time.

He returned the salute and watched as she turned and jogged back across the siege line, heading toward the distant, imposing temple that dominated the city on what once was a mountain, centuries before.

"Respect to Command Handar," he said to his adjutant. "The city is ours. We need to disperse teams to assess damage, casualties and civilian needs. Fourth Unit, you are with me. We head to the Temple. The rest remain and await Commander Handar's further orders."

The adjutant saluted before turning and sprinting back to the Ekru.


	27. Blind Faith

A/N: Chap 26 review responses are in my forums as normal. Please note this chapter marks the end of Part III. Next chapter, starting Part IV, will be a timeskip.

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 **Chapter Twenty-Seven: Blind Faith**

Harry, Hermione and Luna took tea in a breath-taking garden surrounded by oriental-style fountains and immaculately kept hedges. The table they sat at was hewn from a twisted core of wood that had been painstakingly carved and then stained until its surface was as smooth as glass. The chairs around it had thick cushions despite it being outside, while protecting them from the sun was a large stretched canvas umbrella hanging from a curved metal pole solely for that purpose.

A few hundred feet away rose the majestic grand entrance of the Temple of Anshur, lined with thousands of temple guards. More guards stood on multiple layers around fifteen-story structure, with additional sharp shooters stationed on the golden-domed minarets that rose from each of the four corners. A central, golden dome rose from the very center of the temple with an extravagance the most powerful sultan on Earth could have only dreamed of.

Occasionally one or more of the guardsmen would take a shot, but the three had put up a simple kinetic ward before sitting down to contemplate their next steps. Despite playing the parts of divine beings, after a night spent apparating bombs through the city, all three were tired.

When Aldal Arda made it to the gardens that surrounded the temple, he found them calmly drinking tea and talking about the coming harvest's projected bean crops on Kalmah. "Commander," the Akai'kheb said by way of greeting. "Have a seat and join us."

Aldal ordered the squad who accompanied him to take cover from the increasing guardsmen's fire before joining the three at the table. He accepted a cup of tea from Hermione with a wan smile. "After the miracle of returning the city to our control, I confess myself confused as to why the Temple still stands."

"There are children inside," Luna told him, as if that answer alone was enough. Gone were the trappings of divinity. The three were just too tired to pretend. "We were going to tear it down last night, but I sensed children."

The Protector blinked as if surprised, before sagging. "I had not thought of it, but you're right. The priests do house their families in the temple as well, but more importantly it houses the Edubba, the Tablet House, where all the sons of Erid are educated."

Arda noticed how Anu Hermione's shoulders sank in an all-too-human gesture of anguish. "They're holding your children as hostages. All of your children—girls as well, now."

That morning, when Aldal Arda saw the shattered siege line, he'd felt a surge of hope so powerful it hurt. Now, realizing just how precarious their situation was, and seeing the worry in the faces of such powerful allies, that hope began to bleed away.

The Akai'kheb had not spoken outside of the greeting. Unlike his wives, he sat facing the temple and studied it with a professional eye. "Tell me, Protector, have you been inside the Temple?"

"Often," Aldal said. "Like all boys, I too was educated at the Edubba, and was required to attend prayer sessions twice daily. I've made the sacrifices to Anshur. I've not been in the Sacristy where the mysteries are performed, nor the Priesthood's personal quarters, but I'm familiar with the rest of the Temple."

The Akai'kheb turned to face Aldal as he spoke, and abruptly the Protector felt a massive, huge _pressure_ against his thoughts. He had no words to describe the feeling, other than a great mental and spiritual weight being pressed down against his soul. Against his own volition, suddenly all of his memories of the temple came to his surface thoughts, from the many times he was caned in front of the classroom for speaking out of turn, or his years as a faithful servant and Protector doing his sacrifices on all the appointed Holy Days.

Abruptly it ended and Aldal found himself gasping with a pounding headache.

"Harry," the white-headed Luna said gently. "I could have done that far more easily without hurting him."

"What…what happened?" Aldal asked between gasps for air.

"I lifted your memories of the Temple from your mind," the Akai'kheb said without remorse.

Aldal stared at the man in horror. More than the fire; more even than their flight—the idea that the Akai'kheb could know his thoughts terrified Aldal like nothing ever had. "You can know the thoughts of a man?"

"Women too," Hermione added with a wry smile. "However, Luna is much more skilled. She is rapier, while Harry is a sledgehammer. He's too powerful for most minds to handle without pain. And he should have asked permission first."

Never had Aldal seen a woman publicly chastise her man, nor had he ever seen a man take it as calmly as the Akai'kheb did. "Aldal, if it means saving all the children of Erid, would you have shared your thoughts with me willingly?"

"Yes," he blurted. _What an absurd question_.

The Akai'kheb shrugged and looked at Hermione. She glared back. "You still removed his choice. We're too powerful for that, Harry. He's not our enemy, he's an ally. Moreover, he's likely going to be the governor of the world after we leave. We owe him some respect for that reason alone, if none other."

It was fascinating watching the interplay between the three. Luna cleared her throat and addressed Aldal himself, as if she too had read his mind. "In our culture, women were not considered inferior or unequal. This is because woman are _not_ inferior or unequal. If not for your cultural conditioning and the brutality you use to keep women under control, you would know this. As for us…consider Hermione and I the Akai'kheb's conscience. If not for us, he would have destroyed the temple regardless of the children inside."

"Only because I didn't sense them," he admitted.

"You didn't look," Hermione pointed out. "You were intent on destroying the enemy. As you said, you're the chosen warrior of the Ancients—it's what you were born and shaped to do. We're along to make sure you're pointed at the right targets."

"That said, what are you going to do?" Luna asked.

The Akai'kheb nodded back to the temple. "The school is inside, front western quadrant, second, third and fourth floors. I can feel most of the children are there. The guard barracks take up the entire eastern half of the same floors. There are no children in the minarets or under that central dome. However, I sense at least five hundred men on each of the minarets. I say we give them an opportunity to surrender and then start pruning to get their attention."

"They will not," Aldal said.

"I know." There was a calm, determined acceptance in the Akai'kheb's tone and expression. "But it is important for us to be seen offering mercy, even if it is rejected. Aldal, I need you to gather as many people as possible and form a siege line with your soldiers around the temple complex. The people of Erid need to see what is going to happen today."

"And what is that, Akai'kheb?"

"Freedom. As a rather raucous group of people on our world once said, we're going to free the fuck out of your people."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"What are the heretics doing?"

The High Patriarch stood surrounded by Janissaries within an alcove just below the central dome. The wall in front of him was a clever mesh of thinly spun copper painted the same white as the marble stone around them, which gave him the ability to look out over the city all the way to the Ekru, without anyone realizing he was within firing range. What the old man saw was a ring of tens of thousands of people surrounding the temple. Through his far-see glasses he could see large trucks slowly driving along behind them handing out what looked like food.

"So far, they've made no effort to come closer, Eminence," Janissary Commander Hrashi said. "They are careful to stay out of the range of most of our weapons. We could fire into the crowd, but we lost much of our ammunition when the heretics shattered our siege line. To ensure we have the means to repel attack, I've ordered our men not to fire unless they have a clear target of military value. If you believe Anshur wishes otherwise, I will pass the word."

The Patriarch shook his head. "No, Hrashi, you speak wisely. Have we identified the three Ugaddin who defiled our garden?"

"Rumors only, Eminence. No firm identification."

The Patriarch frowned and turned his full attention to his Janissary. "You are holding something back, Hrashi. What is it?"

The Janissary cleared his throat in a gesture of nervousness the Patriarch had not seen from the man since he was a child. "Eminence, our bullets do not touch them. More, though, some of the guardsmen who fled the siege line last night swore that…that…"

"Speak!"

"It is whispered that it is the _Anu_ Hermione, the same which started heresy and spirited Mar Lomet and his family away. Our guardsmen swear they saw her fly like an angel; that she shone with light like a star. Hence my reluctance to speak of such blasphemy."

The Patriarch put the far-see glass back to his eye and leaned forward to better view the three Ugaddin who continued to lounge indolently within their garden. He saw two mere girls, little better than children, and a young man who would barely be of full Protector age. All three appeared to be wearing uniforms and an odd armor that, on the women, deeply offended the Patriarch. They sat in lotus position, forming a small triangle between them.

"Have one of your men shoot them," the Patriarch ordered. "I wish to see for myself."

Hrashi gave the order through the wired intercom in the observation chamber's wall. A moment later, a distant report rang over the temple. In the distance, the Patriarch saw nothing—no sign the bullet even got close.

"The sniper reports the bullet should have hit the girl with the white hair," Hrashi said after listening over the speaker. "The bullet just disappeared."

"Eminence, they move!"

The priest need not have spoken given the Patriarch was staring right at the three as they rose from their odd meditation. They walked directly toward the temple, with the taller of the females taking a lead, while the other two walked behind her.

Priests and junior Patriarchs began jabbering mindlessly about the brazenness of the approach, demanding loudly that the Janissaries do something about such a defilement of the gardens. The High Patriarch said nothing, though, as he continued to watch them. Something about their body movements frightened him, even he who was so strong in the embrace of Anshur's love.

The Ugaddin moved without fear.

All noise in the observation room came to a sudden, abrupt halt when they saw the girl rise effortlessly into the air. Even in the full light of the sun, the air around her shimmered with a white aura, while around her head the air caught fire in a blue halo. She rose until she floated level with their very observation chamber, staring at them as if somehow she knew they were there.

Then she spoke, and her voice rang out over the whole temple so loudly no speaker or megaphone could have competed. "Patriarchs of Anshur, I am a messenger of one greater even than myself. I bring word of the Akai'kheb, the Bridge Unto Heaven, chosen by the Ancients as their champion in this life. In his name, I tell you now that you are the blasphemers. Your devotion to a dead god has led to acts so repulsive, there can never be forgiveness. However, if you open your gates and lay down your arms and surrender and release the children of Erid to their families, we may be merciful. Refuse, and you will die."

The High Patriarch's hands shook as he lowered the far-see glass. "Destroy her," he whispered. "Destroy her! Answer her with every bullet we have!"

Hrashi relayed the order, and instantly every soldier on the outer walls of the temple opened fire. This time, the Patriarch could see the air burn as hundreds—even thousands—of bullets evaporated in wisps of white in the air in front of her. None struck their mark.

Eventually, when it became obvious their efforts had no effect, the firing tapered off.

"You have made your choice," the Ugaddin goddess said. "Prepare for the Akai'kheb. Prepare for your deaths."

She floated back down to the ground, but continued to gleam. To the Patriarch's horror, the other female now had an identical gleam about her, with an identical halo.

The male, however, did not. He stepped away from the two glowing females but did not rise into the air. Instead, he simply stopped a hundred meters away from the main gates of the Temple and held up his right hand toward the northeastern minaret. The High Patriarch was the first to hear a deep groaning from that structure, followed by the sharp snapping of the steel supports within the concrete tower itself.

Men screamed as the whole minaret suddenly broke away from the main body of the temple and collapsed. The Patriarch could see men in uniforms falling free to their deaths, while he knew many hundreds more died within. A great cloud of dust rose into the air, obscuring his vision.

The Ugaddin was not done, though. More groaning came from the south eastern minaret, followed by still more sharp cracks and screams as it came crashing down.

"The Ugaddin disappeared!"

The High Patriarch blinked and put the far-see glass back to his eye. Indeed, the male was gone, though the two gleaming females remained. However, he could hear a deep, reverberating crack and crash from the distance behind him, followed seconds later by another, and could guess that somehow this creature had brought down all four of their minarets.

"How many men?" the High Patriarch whispered.

"If…if he destroyed all four, as many as two thousand," Hrashi said weakly.

Suddenly the male reappeared, but not on the ground. He burst back before their eyes in a pillar of fire that burned down to the ground and high into the heavens. When the fire passed, the being that remained continued to burn in a great cloak of brilliant red fire visible despite the sun.

"I am the Akai'kheb!" His voice boomed so loudly the walls shook. The High Patriarch stumbled back from the observation window, shaking with a deep, primordial terror.

"I have seen the heads of children, murdered at the hands of your so called priests. I have seen you kill innocents, and have seen in your souls that you are twisted and sick. You have one last chance, only one. Open your gates and lay down your arms now. The _Anu_ Hermione is merciful. I am not. Surrender now and release the children, or you will all suffer."

In the heart of his fear, the High Patriarch realized something that gave him a surge of hope. "The children!" he said. "They do not attack for fear of hurting the children. Hrashi, order your men to bring the children to the walls! They shall be our shield against…"

"WRONG ANSWER, PATRIARCH!"

The voice exploded over them so loudly the fine copper mesh frayed and blasted away, exposing the High Patriarch to the world. He stumbled back and lost his footing entirely in the face of such terrible power. Only, the power that felled him was just the beginning. Even without his far-see glass, he watched as the Akai'kheb raised both his hands over his head. The air above him exploded once more into a pillar of fire, but one that somehow sprouted wings and a mouth like a mythical dragon. Its fiery roar made dust fall from the ceiling as it swept up in a great arch, before flying straight toward them.

"Holy Anshur, save us!" the High Patriarch screamed moments before the fiendfyre slammed into the observation chamber. Instantly, the entire Patriarchy and the leadership of the Janissaries ceased to exist.

Though the High Patriarch did not live to see it, the two Ugaddin female gods disappeared much as the male had. Moments later, explosions began to rip through the temple, while the Akai'kheb himself continued to wield the terrifying demonic flame along the outer walls of the temple, sweeping it clear of every guardsman or Janissary who had taken station.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Aldal stood rooted in place, staring with a gaping jaw and a painful thudding in his chest, at the impossible sight before him. The fire moved as if a living thing, crawling along the outside of the temple and consuming every guard it touched. All around, people screamed or fell to their knees in prayer at what could only be the act of a god.

He was so lost in the sheer spectacle of it all that he almost did not notice Tel'gat and the soldiers of Kalmah running directly toward the beleaguered temple. With an effort of will he didn't know he possessed, he followed after. "Captain, what are you doing?"

"Orders!" the young woman shouted back. "We're to secure the school in the temple while the Akai'kheb and his companions deal with the enemy forces."

 _Of course._ "Go, then, I'll be along shortly!"

If the Akai'kheb was sending his own people in, then he had no intention of destroying the whole temple. Aldal ran back to the line where his troops waited. "Protectors! The Akai'kheb calls on you to save our children! Form up by squads and follow me!"

More amazing, not a single one of his men hesitated. In fact, many had already broken formation when they heard Tel'gat shout back what her orders were. In seconds, Aldal ran at the head of almost three thousand Protectors, leaving the rest of their men behind to keep the civilians back from the destruction they were all witnessing.

The miracles did not stop, though. Ahead of him, he saw a squadron of Guardsmen and Janissaries forming a firing line at the approaching Kalmah soldiers in front of the heavy wooden gate. However, before they had a chance to fire at the oncoming forces the white-headed _Anu_ named Luna appeared in the air above them, glowing like her companions, and dropped one of the Goa'uld bombs directly into the massed Guardsmen. She disappeared a split second later and in that act revealed to Aldal exactly how they were able to so utterly crush the Temple siege of the Ekru.

The bomb's explosion was devastating. The Kalmah soldiers knew it was coming and as one, a hundred men and women fell to the ground and covered their heads. The Protectors, perhaps a hundred yards further back, did not and so saw the guardsmen vaporize, as well as the gates themselves shatter. The shockwave of the explosion struck Aldal full on and ripped the air from his chest even as it pushed him back into his men as if he'd been punched.

By the time he recovered, the Kalmah soldiers were already back on their feet and ran through the wide-open portal that once housed the gates without a single shot being fired.

"Forward!" Aldal shouted, and ran directly after.

Despite the devastation outside, there were simply too many priests, guardsmen and Janissaries for them not to encounter resistance. Almost immediately he ran across two fallen Kalmah rangers. Ahead, he saw his allies engaged in a fierce firefight with a squad of Guardsmen with a Janissary at their head.

This time, it was the _Anu_ Hermione who appeared. She had no gun—rather she wielded flaming swords and lightning itself. She slashed through the defenders so quickly she blurred into a streak of bright light, giving Tel'gat and her soldiers just the distraction they needed to gain ground.

Aldal did not hesitate and joined the front as well, carrying his revolver in one hand and his rifle in the other. It was difficult not to become mesmerized by the angelic warrior, but there were too many guardsmen even for her to destroy. So Aldal took a position between two Kalmah soldiers and began firing as well. All around, his thousands turned the Kalmah unit into an army, and with one or the other glowing angels lighting their way, they began cutting their way through to the school where their children were being held hostage.

In a final push, it was Aldal himself who broke through the hastily assembled barricades around the Edubba proper. However, he and all his men came up short when they saw a line of thirty guardsmen surrounded by children, none over ten. Each man held a toddler in his arms with a revolver pointed to an infant's head.

"Hold!" The speaker was a Janissary. Judging by the lining of the child's robes, it could easily have been the man's own son he held. "Hold, or the blood of these…"

Abruptly his head snapped around so thoroughly his face pointed backward. From amidst the allies walked both the angelic women. Neither blazed any more, and for this Aldal was grateful since it would interfere with his vision. However, he could see the air around each shimmering as if both were burning with the heat of the sun.

"The first man to harm a child in this room will not just die," Hermione shouted. Her voice was hoarse from fighting and raw, unbridled rage, but reached everyone in the room with terrible clarity. "I will bring you back to life and kill you again and again, each death more agonizing than the last, until your very souls burn! Put them down NOW!"

The last word came out as an explosion of sound as powerful as the shockwave of the blast that destroyed the gates. Guardsmen and children alike tumbled backward. The children screamed in terror, only to suddenly fly across the room into the startled arms of the protectors. Before the stunned guardsmen could grab any more human shields, Hermione and Luna both shot forward at impossible speeds with their flaming swords held high.

The assembled children scattered, screaming, as Hermione and Luna viciously cut every guardsman down in seconds, all thirty of them. In the aftermath, Luna looked around. "Aldal, these can't be all the children."

"There are two more levels above us," he confirmed.

The two women shared a look before each flew majestically to the twelve-foot high ceilings. Their flaming swords cut through the floor as if it were bread, and just like that both were through. From the hole, Aldal and his soldiers could hear the distinctive whirring of the Anu blades and more screams.

Suddenly Luna's inverted head appeared, her white hair hanging like icicles. "Protectors, send a squad to the next floor up. We've secured the room, but there might be resistance outside. Be quick!"

Aldal selected his team and left the rest with Tel'gat's soldiers to secure the children they'd already saved. By the time he reached the second floor of the school, he found more guardsmen bodies and a mass of huddled, terrified children. He also saw a familiar hole burned into the ceiling, and so leaving still more men to secure the second group of children, he made his way to the third floor.

Outside, in the vast atrium under the golden dome, he saw sunlight shining down onto the mosaic tiles for the first time in the temple's history. Startled, he looked up in shock to see the dome broken and falling in pieces to the floor below, crushing terrified, fleeing guardsmen. He saw sadly that many of their wives were crushed as well. Beyond the shattered dome, he saw the Akai'kheb's demonic fire continuing its sweep of the outer defenses.

He realized it was because of the Akai'kheb that they had not been overrun yet. That, and the two angels bound to him.

On the third floor, he saw yet another miracle. More dead guardsmen, but this time five fallen children. As he and his men arrived, they witnessed Hermione and Luna each touching their exposed chests and from their very skin somehow pulling out a strange, purple fluid that was like blood in consistency, but not color. They used their powers to divide each globule and settled it into the bullet holes of four of the fallen children.

Aldal felt his knees weaken when the four obviously dead children coughed and began to move. Luna was already at the fifth, but stopped and sat back on the floor. She wept for the child she did not try to save.

"You cannot save her too?" Aldal asked.

"These others were shot in the chest," Luna said sadly. "This one was shot in the head. Her brain was destroyed, and with it her soul. I could bring her body back to life, but I can't…there are some things not even we will do, Aldal. She's gone to Kheb, and I will not take that away from her."

Hermione, having saved her two, also settled back on the floor. Her face looked drawn and ravaged not just with soot and blood, but with exhaustion. Even the gods got tired, Aldal realized. Somehow, he felt better for knowing that fact.

With a loud pop, the Akai'kheb stood between them. The children, already deeply traumatized, shouted and screamed in alarm, only settling down when they realized the Akai'kheb was not harming them.

"You saved the children," he said by way of greeting.

Luna pointed at the fallen girl, who appeared to be thirteen. "Not all of them." She sounded bitter, now.

The Akai'kheb turned to Aldal. "Commander, the last of the guardsmen and Janissaries fled the temple and were intercepted by Commander Handar. The temple is secure enough to evacuate the children. Once all the children are out, clear the area. I'm bringing this temple down entirely."

"And then what, Akai'kheb?"

"Then, Governor Aldal, we discuss the terms of Erid's entry into the Empire of Kheb."


	28. An Open Mind

A/N: Chap 27 review responses are in my forums. And now: Part IV, and with it a time jump. As their empire grows, the POVs will by necessity include other characters. Sometimes the daily life of emperors and empresses is not exciting at all.

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 **Part IV: The Empire of Kheb**

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight: An Open Mind**

"Daniel, is something troubling you?"

Sixteen-year-old Daniel Jackson blinked himself out of his distraction and looked into the soft, kind eyes of Professor Omac.

Omac was the only human Daniel had ever seen with hair more red than his mother's. Claire Jackson's hair was more of auburn, but Omac's hair was a bright red. Of course, it was also rapidly receding toward the back of his head and graying at the temple, but his well-trimmed goatee gave mute evidence the odd color was natural.

No one even knew for sure where Professor Omac came from. He just walked through the gate with a resupply train from their outposts on Farber and within a week was teaching at the newly established Finishing School where Daniel and a quarter of the rest of the students age sixteen or older went if their grades in secondary were high enough.

"You're very distracted," Omac spoke again, once more shattering Daniel's train of thought. "I'm not sure you heard anything in class today."

Daniel may have been distracted, but he was smart enough to hide it. Dutifully, he summarized the lesson, which was on the First Convergence of the Five Races, an event that occurred while humanity was still swinging around in trees in the savannahs of Africa and the Goa'uld slithering in a pond somewhere. The fact Omac knew the history was, itself, astonishing and largely why he was now the Professor Emeritus of the Finishing School, teaching sciences and history.

Omac smiled; like everything, it was a knowing smile of wry amusement couched in what Daniel could only describe as wisdom. In some ways, he reminded Daniel of his Auntie Luna. He looked around and realized the small class was empty—there were only twenty students to begin with, but all were already gone. The school day was over, and yet here he sat.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

That was another thing about Omac—he could read Daniel like a book. The fact is the teen _did_ want to talk about it, so bad he was full to bursting with the need. "Mother said I shouldn't," he said. It wasn't an excuse, so much as a plea for understanding. And, perhaps, a plea for permission.

"Dr. Jackson is an extraordinary woman," Omac said. Daniel heard admiration in the voice, but no sign of the desire he sometimes heard from other men. He knew his mother was still a very attractive woman. "Both your parents are. And I have it on good authority that all three of your siblings will be coming to this school after you, given their grades. I've heard it said the best measure of a parent is in the success of their children. By that measure, they are successful parents indeed."

"But…" Daniel included the word he sensed should have finished Omac's statement.

Omac nodded as he calmly stepped around the rows of desks so that he could sit facing Daniel at eye-level. "But, they are human. And by definition, imperfect. I know beyond doubt that they love you and want what is best for you, but there are things they are deeply uncomfortable with here. I know they have discussed a desire to return to their home world."

Daniel blinked, surprised. "They admitted it to you?"

That wise old smile again. "I've been told I am a good listener."

Daniel couldn't help but snort. "I think they're scared of Auntie…I mean, the Imperial Family."

"You were going to say Auntie Hermione?"

Daniel shrugged. "I grew up around them, so sometimes when they're not acting as the Emperor and Empresses, it's easy to forget who they are."

"But not for your parents."

"No," Daniel admitted. "I've heard the legends, about what they did on Erid to the old cult of Anshur. I even interviewed Governor Arda last year for the secondary school newsreel on the Fifth Anniversary. But Dad, he saw it. I mean, he wasn't there during the fight, but he went over as part of the engineering team to help with repairs just days after, and he _saw_ it. He heard the people talking. There were paintings of Auntie Hermione all over and the people there were worshipping her as their patron goddess, and Harry as the One True God, almost like the Christian faith on our home world, and it…it really freaked them out, because Hermione never tried to stop it."

Omac nodded. "What do you think?"

Daniel looked away from the older man and stared out the window toward the woods. On the far side, beyond his sight, he knew his house waited for him, with his brother and two sisters. By now, Mother and Dad would both be home because the next day was a weekend. "I asked Auntie Hermione about it, once. She said the only thing more dangerous than starting a religion is trying to stop it. I think it scared her a little, too." Daniel looked back to Omac. "Do you think they're gods? Divine, I mean?"

Omac shrugged. "I suppose it would depend on the definition you used for divinity. Two of the Five Great races still live and occasionally interacts with the broader galaxy."

"The Nox and Asgard."

"Correct. I have seen Nox let themselves be killed by Goa'uld rather than fight back. And then, after the Goa'uld leave, the dead Nox are revived without issue. They can activate gates with a wave of their hand and move through even the most advanced shielding without effort. As far as I know, they do not die, or at least, I've not heard of one dying in my lifetime. Does this make them gods?"

"The Mal Jaffa or Eridu would think so."

"Then, to the Mal Jaffa and Eridians, the Imperial Family are gods," Omac said. "The question you must ask yourself is whether you believe they are gods."

"I…I think my parents are afraid of that answer." Daniel stared down at his tablet, whose home screen was crowded with digital doodles. "I mean, we've been here almost fourteen years. I can remember sleeping in caves. Our first house had no electricity or appliances or plumbing, and I was ten before we moved out of it. The whole Empire is changing so fast, and it's because of the Imperial Family." He lifted his tablet. "Most of the parents of my friends in school don't even know how to read, much less what a tablet is. And it's because of _them._ I've seen them do impossible things, and yet they only look a few years older than I am. They're not aging. And they know things that they shouldn't. Auntie Luna knew about that mine cave-in on Kalhu before it even happened. How?"

Omac shrugged, not bothering to hazard a guess. However, he was watching Daniel very carefully. "Daniel, have you…sensed something that hasn't happened yet?"

"What? No! Of course not!" Daniel looked down at his school-issued tablet while Omac simply sat at the desk in front of him. "Well, maybe."

"What?"

"When I was nine, I knew mother was pregnant with my little sister Karen before she did. I told everyone we were going to have another sister, but mother was furious because she hadn't missed her…you know…and didn't know she was pregnant yet. When she found out, she seemed really upset with me for months. And then last year, I had a really bad feeling about one of the new kids in Secondary who immigrated from Aspiracus. Just a feeling like he was dirty or something. Two months later, we found out he was pushing _nishta_ to the other kids and funneling the money back to that big drug gang on Aspiracus that's been giving everyone so much trouble."

Omac nodded as if the revelation did not surprise him. "And most recently?"

Daniel looked up at Professor and felt the dam breaking. "Mother said I shouldn't ever talk about it."

"Because she is human, and therefore imperfect," Omac pointed out. "She fears those things that are beyond her experience. But you were raised around beings who themselves exist beyond that experience, and so what is beyond her ability to understand is fully within your grasp."

It made so much sense. Daniel heard stories from his mother about flying in the air through a big city on Earth, and how she felt like she was being saved by a super hero. But he also knew her perception changed over the years as the people around her viewed Harry and his wives less as superheroes and more as gods. And their power, Daniel knew, now terrified her. He began to suspect she was terrified it might spread to those she loved, as well.

"I've had a really bad feeling the past few days," Daniel finally admitted. "I had a nightmare. Mother was crying for me, reaching for me. But I couldn't get to her, no matter how I tried. She was holding my littlest sister Karen and my brother Michael, but she was screaming for me and I couldn't reach her. Dad was there too, but not my sister Catherine, for some reason. And then everything just turned white. And that's when it ends."

"A dream?"

Daniel wiped his eyes, surprised to find a tear running down his cheek. "No. It happens all the time, now. I'm sorry, I know it sounds crazy, but…"

He stopped when he saw Omac tapping a communicate on the back of his wrist. " _Directory_ ," a curt voice said.

"This is Omac. I need to speak to one of the Tripartite. It is urgent."

"What…?" Daniel began.

" _Acknowledge, patching through. There will be a brief wait_."

"Thank you." He looked back to Daniel. "Divination is a projection of probabilities. Those of great enough intuition can often detect those projections subconsciously. Others, like your Auntie Luna, can actually control her perception consciously. It is a power, to be sure, but one that I have seen before. What you are describing is very similar to what your Auntie experiences."

" _Omac_?" It was Hermione answering, Daniel could tell. He tried not to think why a professor at his finishing school would have direct contact to one of the three most important people in an empire of three worlds and half a billion people.

"Hermione," the professor said, "I am with young Daniel Jackson. He has been experiencing intense visions involving his family being taken away from him. He has been having them during waking hours."

She didn't question or challenge. Instead: " _Someone will be there shortly_."

Despite the warning, Daniel jumped when Auntie Luna appeared mere seconds later with a pop. She was dressed casually—loose Byrsa-style dark green pantaloons and a tight yellow bodice. Omac didn't jump at all, the younger man noticed with envy.

Sometimes, when he wasn't careful, Daniel forgot that Luna was almost the same age as his mother. He didn't know for sure how old, but when he saw her he didn't see the Vice Empress or a powerful, divine being. He saw a really pretty girl who only looked a few years older than him that made him tingle in places he didn't want to think about around people who could read his mind and legally kill him.

He stood as she walked over, and thus allowed her to make his confused feelings worse by wrapping him in a hug tight enough that he could feel the shape of her breasts through the multiple layers of clothing that separated their skin.

 _Sometimes,_ Daniel thought, _it was hard being a boy._

She separated immediately though and, holding his shoulders, studied him at arm's length. "Daniel, I want you to think about your vision, okay? I'm going to view it with you in your mind, but nothing else, I promise."

"Oh…okay." It was easy to bring the vision to the forefront of his mind because that's where it always seemed to be. He could somehow feel her, though, as she slipped lightly into his thoughts. The sensation was difficult to describe—a vague feeling of the feminine, as if he were enveloped in her floral scent and the warmth he felt emanating so powerfully from her body—a warmth that could make the air shimmer in winter.

And then it was over. "Oh, Daniel," she whispered.

The tears in her eyes felt like a punch to his stomach. "What?"

"It's…oh, how I wish Claire would have trusted us with you."

"But…Auntie Luna, what…?"

Suddenly, in the distance, Daniel heard a loud, reverberating thump. The windows suddenly shook in their panes and beyond he could see trees bowing down. Sirens began blaring all across the city of Byrsa, the capital of the planet Kalmah and the Empire of Kheb. Daniel rushed to the window and saw a billow of flame just visible over the trees in the distance. A single Goa'uld al'kesh flew around in circles, dropping plasma charges.

Just as Daniel reached the window, though, he saw a pair of sleek defense fighters swoop in and begin firing on the craft. The Al'kesh was obviously shielded, but the shields collapsed after only a few shots from the smaller craft, and in seconds began spiraling out of the air.

"No," Daniel whispered. "Mother!"

He tore out of the room, not hearing Luna or Omac's cries for him to stop. However, he wasn't even to the entrance of the school when Luna popped in front of him. Rather than try to stop him, though, she merely grabbed him, and a second later the world twisted around them violently. When it untwisted, he stumbled forward and stared in shock at the shattered remnants of his house.

Nor was his house even the worst off. The plasma charge looked as if it actually struck the Chittani house next to them. But the explosion was so powered it obliterated the northern half of the Jackson home as well, leaving only the bedroom side of the house. The kitchen, dining and living rooms and his parent's bedrooms were utterly gone, though.

"Mother!" he screamed. "Mother!"

He started to run toward the building when suddenly Hermione was there, right in front of him. She wrapped him in a tight hug as he struggled to get to the still burning structure. "Mother!"

He couldn't remember everything that happened after that until a sharp, stinging slap broke through the wall of grief. Hermione stood looking at him, her face wracked with grief. "Daniel, stop and listen!" she said, shouting over the sound of approaching sirens. "Listen, Daniel! Was anyone missing from your vision? Who was missing?"

Daniel's brain tried to process her words, but everything felt sluggish, as if he were trying to wade through amber. _Who was missing from your vision?_ Hermione's voice echoed in his head.

"Cathy," he whispered. "Catherine."

 _Can you hear her, Daniel? She's calling for you. Can you hear her?_

Daniel frowned as he pushed past the sluggishness to strain with every sense he had for his sister. And somehow, though he couldn't understand how, he could hear her calling faintly—weakly—for mother to come help her.

"She's hurt," he whispered. This time, Hermione didn't try to stop him as he ran toward the house. In fact, he could hear her and Luna behind him as he ran over burning lumber. Catherine's room was in a far corner—he could see timber from the house blown through the walls like artillery shells. He didn't go through Catherine's door because it wasn't there. The door and the wall that framed it were gone, and the other interior door was most blown inside her room. In fact, all he could see was the broken remnants of the wall covering her room.

But he could _hear_ her, crying for someone to help.

"Where, Daniel?"

He pointed to the broken wall. "There," he said.

Hermione was wearing her kara'kesh. With a wave of her hand and a flare of the jewel's power, the wall disappeared. Sprawled on the floor in a broken heap, covered in blood, ash and soot, lay his eldest sister Catherine. She was not moving at all, much less crying for help.

Luna moved past him until she knelt across from Hermione on either side of the girl. Both began using their magic and the kara'kesh at their wrists to start healing the girl. "Auntie…" Daniel began.

"We couldn't sense her, Daniel," Hermione said absently as she worked. "She was too weak. But you share a sibling bond with her. You saved her, Daniel."

"But…but…"

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a shaken, pale Catherine Littlefield standing beside him. The woman's hair had gone largely gray, and standing beside him in the ruins of his home, her face looked gray as well. "What happened here?" she said hoarsely, obviously affected by the smoke.

"The drug gang on Farber was looking for revenge for us shutting their network down last year," Hermione explained as she let Luna take over the healing. She stood and stepped to Daniel. "We knew they were going to attack—we had fighters on stand-by. But we didn't know where they would strike first. Not until Daniel's vision revealed it. But it was too late to stop this. I'm so sorry."

"Daniel's vision?" Catherine looked from Hermione to Daniel, but Daniel could only stand in shock, staring down at his eleven-year-old sister as his Auntie Luna fought desperately for her life.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

 _Daniel, it's time to wake._

Daniel gasped and sat up, looking around desperately for some sign of similarity. However, he found nothing that even reminded him of his room, much less something truly familiar. The walls were made of finely paneled choric wood, stained dark and intricately carved with murals of animals and sunrises over mountains and forests.

The bed was larger than he was used to—he had to scoot over a little to get to the edge, and when he did, he discovered he was wearing only a loose pajama bottom secured with nothing but a string tie. Overhead, a domed ceiling shown with a mural of the galaxy in brilliant detail. He stood on shaky legs and saw the only other furnishings in the room—a simple, padded wooden chair with a set of clothes draped over the back, with fine leather boots on the floor in front of it.

Dressed, Daniel left the room and blinked when he saw Colonel Tel'gat standing right outside of his door, her dark olive uniform perfectly tailored and pressed. "Good morning, Mr. Jackson," she said with a friendly enough nod. "I'm to take you to Parliament."

Daniel blinked. "Er, what? Why?"

For an answer, he received a half-smile. "This way, Daniel."

Tel'gat could be very imposing when she wanted to be. He attributed it to her years in the military. She also walked very fast—he had to jog a little just to keep up with her stride, despite the fact he was almost as tall as she was. "Do you know where my sister is?" he asked.

"She's in the Medical Center," Tel'gat said. "She's expected to make a full recovery and will probably be released in a day or to."

"Released to whom?" Daniel asked. "I mean…" He stopped walking as the full import of the previous day's events hit him with visceral force. Tears welled in his eyes and his stomach clenched so hard he felt sure he would throw up.

He looked up through his tears when he felt an arm around his shoulder, and was surprised when he saw the colonel holding him tenderly. "Breathe," she ordered firmly.

He managed to suck in a ragged breath. "They…my parents…they're…."

"I know," she said simply. She began to guide him forward, arm around his shoulders, until they arrived at a set of stairs. Still holding him, she guided the shaking teen up several narrow flights until they emerged onto a small balcony that overlooked the Parliament of Kheb—the legislative body of the Empire.

The space looked much larger than the needs of the few who occupied it. Daniel knew from his studies that there were two separate houses within the Parliament. The House of Ministers was comprised of one individual of each member world. Since there were only three, they did not have their own chamber, but rather sat with the House of Representatives, whose members were also chosen by their worlds, but whose numbers were dictated by population.

Of the three worlds, Erid had the most representatives at the moment, but Kalmah's numbers were fast rising. Kalhu remained largely a mining world, and so only one Representative served as the voice of its people.

That made a whopping total of twelve men and women to decide the laws of the Empire, debating in a room that appeared made to house hundreds.

At the head of the room, behind a simple wooden table, sat the Akai'kheb and his first wife, Hermione. A third chair for Luna sat empty. Neither said anything as representatives from Erid and Kalmah argued. Daniel sniffed and tried to listen despite his emotional turmoil, because he heard the names "Aspiracus" and "Farber."

He sank weakly into a cushioned chair that Tel'gat showed him and realized that the parliamentarians were discussing invading the two trading worlds. Some wanted to do it to gain control of the trade, while those opposed pointed out that doing so would bring undo attention from the many Goa'uld spies that lived there.

His attention drifted when he felt a familiar warmth nearby. Blinking back tears, he turned and saw Luna sitting beside him, as if she'd been there all along. She studied him with her silver-gray eyes and in her smile he saw sadness and compassion. She took his hand, but didn't say anything. Instead, she simply turned and watched the proceedings.

After a few moments of listening to the debate, she spoke. "The Eridu now comprise almost half our armed forces. They are eager to fight, regardless of the consequences."

Daniel didn't know that, but it suddenly made sense that they would be arguing for invasion. "And the Kalmah representatives?"

"They are Byrsa, all of them, and do not believe in imposing their wills on other people. You're looking at the future of the political landscape of the Empire—passives and militants. It will be an interesting challenge balancing the two."

"What will we do?"

"Invade, of course," Luna said simply. "The drug ring is Goa'uld in origin. The Goa'uld have been trying to locate our base of operations for the past five years and introduced _nishta_ as a means of trying to track how extensive our power is. Unfortunately, a great deal of it made its way to Hebridan. Our intelligence suggests the Goa'uld may consider Hebridan the source of our power, and if that happens they will attack in force."

"Will we fight?"

"We have to; we have a mutual defense treaty with Hebridan," Luna said. She spoke distantly as she watched, as if only half-paying attention. But she continued to hold his hand. "And they have declared the Nishta drug trafficking a planetary threat."

"Auntie…" Daniel swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. "What's going to happen to Catherine and me?"

She turned and studied him with an intensity that made him blush. It felt as if two spotlights were shining on his skin, though he knew it was only her silver-blue eyes. "You and Cathy are old enough to make your own decisions. You have two choices as far as I can see. We've known for some time now that you had potential that no one else in this galaxy has, at least not that we've found yet. We would have started training you earlier, but your mother forbade it. That's why her passing hurt us so badly—if she'd let us train you, she would not have died. You would have been able to predict the attack more precisely than we could, and we could have stopped it sooner."

"I don't understand…"

"One of your choices, Daniel, is to stay with us. With Hermione, Harry and I personally. We would adopt you and name you an heir for the empire. Don't get too excited by that—we're immortal. But you and your sister Catherine are the first people besides ourselves we've encountered who are Force Sensitive, and that is a gift we don't wish to squander. Making you our heirs will give us the freedom to train you, and free both of you from the shackles of public education."

"What about…what's our other choice?"

Her smile dulled as if with sadness. "Catherine and Ernest Littlefield. They've asked to take you and your sister. Hermione and I know that they've become the grandparents you don't have, and they both loved you and your family as their own. I think they would be good guardians for you, and love you very much, but they could not train you to control your growing power."

Daniel felt a headache coming on. "You keep talking about power, but I don't even know what that means."

"Then let me tell you about the Force." She spoke softly while below, a motion was made to vote on military intervention on the two primary trade posts the Empire had dealings with. He was so lost in her story he completely missed the Akai'kheb's nod when the Parliament finally voted to invade.


	29. Choices

**A/N** : Review Responses in my forums.

This might seem like a filler chapter. I guess it is. Yet these are the chapters I enjoy writing the most, and it is important for the future. Next week will be much more action-oriented.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Nine: Choices**

Daniel's little sister resembled their mother in many ways. She had a similarly shaped face and wide, expression brown eyes, though her hair leaned more toward a strawberry blonde color than Claire Jackson's auburn. Her hair was a source of torment from the other kids when she was younger, being the only red-head the Byrsa or Mal Jaffa had ever seen until Professor Omac showed up.

Now that hair lay plastered against her forehead with sweat. She panted from physical exertion, but Daniel knew that she was not done yet by any measure. With a shout, she stomped forward with her sparring stick in a powerful overhand blow.

Or what would have been a powerful blow if she had not been five years younger and a foot shorter than Daniel. Daniel met the charge with the angled side of his own stick, deflecting the clumsy blow away and opening her side to another point.

"Too strong, Cathy," Hermione said from where she watched off the sparring mat in the Imperial Residence. "You're never going to be overpowering your opponent, and with a lightsaber you don't have to."

"Yes, Auntie," Catherine said, huffing at being beaten yet again.

"I think that's enough for today," Hermione said. "Come meditate with me."

Cathy fought to control her sigh. Daniel went eagerly, and the three sat lotus position to form a triangle. So much had happened in the past two months since his parents had died. It still hurt to think about the fact he would never see them again. But at the same time, what he was learning was simply _incredible_. Luna had explained that Daniel had sensed his mother's growing discomfort with his abilities and so he had unconsciously suppressed them. But when he purposely used those senses to find his sister, he'd opened up his mind in ways he never dreamed possible.

His thoughts wandered as he let the meditation take him, as if he were floating in the water of Lake Byrsa itself. He could feel the Force pass over him like that water, pulling at him gently to go deeper and deeper. As sometimes happened, a feeling of weightlessness came to him, and with it, he saw things play out before his eyes as if he were watching a Hebridan drama. Only this drama consisted of his Aunt Catherine and Uncle Ernest slipping out of their home with old, worn back-packs slung over their shoulders, filled with clothes and essentials.

They stepped out into the snow, well after night had fallen, and began hiking through the bitter, cloudless winter night toward the bridge that connected their neighborhood with the rest of the city of Byrsa.

"Daniel, stop it!" Cathy said.

Daniel shook himself from his meditation. "Stop what?"

"Stop feeling so sad and scared and stuff. It's annoying." _Typical Cathy._

"What did you see, Daniel?" Hermione asked.

It didn't surprise him that Hermione didn't know. The more he learned about his abilities, the more he understood the powers of the Akai'kheb and his wives. They had additional power he never would, but much of what made them truly powerful was the Force. And while Hermione was very powerful, her vision was not nearly as clear as Auntie Luna's…or Daniel's, now.

"Aunt Catherine and Uncle Ernest are leaving. They're…I think they're going back to Earth."

Hermione frowned. "I…was hoping we would have more time, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

This time it was Daniel's turn to frown. "You knew they were going to go?"

"We suspected," Hermione shrugged. "Look at it from their perspective, Daniel. Your parents were their best friends, and even with the other friends they've made, now that we've taken you and your sister, they may not feel they have any reason to stay. I know before she passed even your parents were thinking about leaving. They would have stayed for you and your sister, you know they would have. But you have a different destiny."

"Will you let them go?" Daniel asked. He had no illusions about the Akai'kheb. Uncle Harry was a hard man, and would not hesitate to kill if he thought he had reason. The thought made his heart ache, but he knew it was a possibility.

"Of course, but we do need to take some precautions for their sakes as well as ours. Do you want to say goodbye?"

"Yes, please."

"Cathy?" Hermione asked over her shoulder. Cathy shrugged, trying to look as if she didn't care though Daniel could feel very well through the Force that she was devastated at the idea of the woman she was named for leaving her. "I guess."

Hermione's frown deepened, but when she gathered Daniel's little sister into her arms, he understood. She too must have felt Cathy's turbulent emotions. "Sweetie, they're not abandoning you."

Suddenly the girl's resolve cracked. "They are! They're running away." Her tears came as if a dam burst, startling Daniel.

Hermione simply held the girl and rocked her. Somehow, she must have communicated to her sister wife, because Auntie Luna walked into their training room in warm winter clothes, and carried heavy coats for the kids. "Harry's on Farber, but I know what to do," Luna announced. "Come, kids, let's get dress."

Daniel looked back over his shoulder where his sister cried disconsolately against Hermione's shoulder. Hermione herself was holding the girl, but she stared intently at Daniel. He didn't know if it was the Force or just the fact that he had grown up around these two women, but he somehow knew exactly what that look meant.

For the first time in a month, since he last sat and truly mourned the loss of his parents, Daniel felt his own eyes prickle with tears. He walked to where Hermione held his sister, and she said nothing as he took Cathy into his own arms. He thought of what it was like for her—growing up listening to their parents and the Littlefields talking every night about New York, or Florida, or the other places on Earth that meant so much to them. For him, the words meant nothing because he always dreamed of the stars. He dreamed of joining the Rangers and serving the Akai'kheb.

But for Cathy, the stories of Earth were of a paradise she never thought she would get to see, but which she knew was important because of how important it was to their parents. He knew she was not happy in the palace; he knew she hated the meditations and was slowly growing to resent Hermione and Luna because, though they tried their best, they could not truly fill the role of her mother. And though she tried, she could not catch up with Daniel either. The Force was with her, but not nearly as strongly as it was with Daniel.

"She was always closer to Aunt and Uncle Littlefield," Daniel admitted aloud. He sniffed his suddenly runny nose.

"With a five-year difference in ages, yours was a different experience from hers," Luna noted. She sounded…heartbroken.

"What are you talking about?" Cathy demanded.

Daniel forced a smile. "I…I made a choice for both of us, Cathy. But maybe I shouldn't have. I thought you would want to stay with me, but you don't have to. Come on, let's get dressed and talk. One way or the other, I don't want them to slip away without saying goodbye."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Catherine Langford Littlefield looked around the small house she and her husband of thirteen years shared with a sad sigh. In just a few months, she was going to turn fifty seven years old. Earnest was going to be sixty a few months after that. And all the pictures on their walls were of Clair, Melburn, and their four kids.

She paused at one of her favorite photos—recent and in color—of the two families playing at the lake which now bordered the city. The lake had actually been Melburn's project—creating a flood control system that called for a large reservoir. Everyone looked so happy in the photo. It had actually been Hermione herself who snapped it.

Hermione, co-Empress. Hermione, who was a strange, magical creature capable of astonishing and terrifying feats. _Hermione_ , who now had Clair and Melburn's two oldest children and was turning them into strange, magical creatures as well.

Earnest's hands on her shoulders pulled her from her reverie. "Are you ready?" he asked.

It astonished her how easily he accepted her half-felt desire to return to Earth. For him, having been marooned for a lifetime on an empty planet, home was wherever she wanted it. He didn't care about the house, only about being around people. Though he didn't wear his heart on his sleeve like she did, Catherine knew for certain that he mourned the loss of their unofficial grandchildren as much as they did.

They simply had nothing left to stay for. She turned and kissed his cheek. "I am."

Not one to stand on ceremony, the two walked out of the house carrying only the backpacks Catherine and the Jackson's wore when they arrived on the planet thirteen years ago. Somehow the backpacks still carried the strange magic that made their interiors far, far larger than their exteriors, and so packed much more than they should have been able to—clothes, food, but also precious metals and gems that they had collected or been compensated with as their salaries for the work they did in education.

It was snowing outside, and already dark. Winter on Kalmah reminded Catherine a great deal of winter in upstate New York, only longer with more snow fall. It was a rare winter that didn't see snow drifts taller than the rooflines of their homes—which was a reason most homes had easy roof access. Fortunately it was still early in the season—Catherine and Ernest's snowshoes would be sufficient. Fitted snugly in their heavy, thermal winter coats and pants, with their backpacks to serve as additional insulation for their backs and heavy hoods and facemasks, the aging couple left their home for the past thirteen years and started walking into the dark, snowy evening.

The paused at the edge of the empty patch of snow that once held the Jackson house. Though the evening held the near preternatural silence that only a heavy snow could bring, in her mind Catherine thought she could hear children laughing. She blinked back tears and reached for her husband's gloved hand.

Despite their layers, she could feel him squeeze her hand back.

They continued walking into the city. Byrsa, like many young metropolitan areas on Earth, had developed something of a nightlife. It was still young—after all, fourteen years before the only people on the planet lived in caves. But with the immigration of so many Hebridans, Eridu and free humans from the two trading worlds, the culture of the city seemed to be in a constant state of flux. The planet's largest export remained food and timber, and she knew from executive meetings that the Tripartite Throne intended to keep it that way. They wished the planet of Kalmah to be a political hub and breadbasket rather than an industrial powerhouse. The planet Kalhu which they rested away from the Goa'uld Tilgath had become the industrial center. However, Kalmah did have a growing textile industry with a good market on Hebridan, which though not an official part of the Empire had become such a close trading partner that it had essentially become the hub of the Empire's technological development.

Those textile factories, which produced packaged foods, clothing and personal items, sometimes ran twenty six hours a day. And to support the increasing number of night-shift workers, many restaurants and shops had extended their own hours.

So, despite the late hour, Catherine and her husband did not walk into a sleeping city, but rather into an umbra of street lights. Workers occasionally walked by, or more likely rode their little semi-electric bikes which were the most popular means of personal transport on the planet. Once in a while they would see an automobile, but those were the exception. The only large moving vehicles were the snow-plows which ran constantly during the winter months.

Finally, they arrived at the gate plaza. Of all the areas of Kalmah that had changed since their arrival, the area around the gate was the most telling. The large, open plaza was now surrounded by an electrified security fence creating almost three square kilometers of open area that could be used for military staging. The outer security ring had two major customs gates and quarantine hostels for travelers to limit the transmission of communicable diseases between worlds.

She knew that there were even more exotic protections around the gate placed there by the Tripartite Throne itself that would kill any Goa'uld or enemy Jaffa who attempted to infiltrate the city through the gate. Those were magical protections that could not be easily disabled.

"Do you think they'll let us go?" Catherine couldn't help but ask aloud.

"They promised they would," Ernest reminded her. "Besides, we're Executive Level. We have clearance."

In fact, they were banking on their Executive Status as retired Executive Council members to get through customs without being searched. The gold in their backpacks could prove problematic if it was found. It was theirs by right, but it would still raise too much attention.

Tired but secure in the knowledge they were doing the right thing, the Littlefields began the last leg of their trek through the bitter cold night toward the nearest customs station. Despite everything, it did not surprise Catherine when Luna Potter seemed to emerge from a shadow and simply fell into step beside them.

She looked ahead and didn't speak. Catherine looked worriedly to Ernest, who merely shrugged. Finally, feeling a need to fill the silence, she said, "Do you understand why?"

Luna nodded, though she continued to look ahead as they approached the customs gate. The silence was discerning. "Luna, I…"

Catherine felt a surge of surprise when Luna turned her far-too-young face to hers and displayed open rivulets of tears. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry," Luna said in a thick, emotional voice. "Losing Claire and Melburn was bad enough, but now we're losing you as well."

Catherine was shocked at the unusual show of emotion, but only at first. Looking at the oddly beautiful girl, she was reminded of the many, many dinners they shared with her and Hermione. Harry, perhaps not as much, but when she thought about it she realized that Hermione and Luna had always been there for them as well, taking pictures and just seeming to enjoy their company.

With a sudden sob, Catherine pulled the shorter woman into a tight embrace, which Luna shared. When at last they parted, Luna sniffed. "You two are not going to sneak out like thieves in the night. We owe you too much. Come, we have an al'kesh waiting. We'll fly you back to Earth and help you get re-established. Consider it a retirement gift."

"You're sure?" Catherine couldn't help but have her doubts.

Luna merely smiled and took their hands.

A moment later, after the world stopped spinning, they found themselves inside the spacious interior of a modified al'kesh transport. And standing right in front of them, her eyes red with her own tears, stood young Cathy Jackson.

"Oh, sweetie," Catherine whispered in dismay.

"You were going to sneak away!" the eleven-year-old cried. "You were going to just run away and leave me here, and I wasn't ever going to see you again! It wasn't fair, Nana! It's wasn't…"

She broke down in sobs, and Catherine rushed to the girl's side to take her into a hug. Over her shoulder, she saw Daniel looking on with his own teary eyes. "I shouldn't have picked for her," he told them softly. "I thought she'd want to stay with me. But…I guess…she wants you more."

Catherine could see the admission hurt him, and possibly her namesake as well, since Cathy actually cried a little harder as she clutched at Catherine's shoulders. She glanced to Luna, who nodded.

"It was always their choice, Catherine. Daniel has a heavy destiny—he always has. He's chosen to accept it and stay with us. But Cathy's fate is her own. We've taken steps to ensure that her power never gets her in trouble—she'll grow up to be the keenly intelligent, beautiful girl her parents always knew she would be. But she wants to do that with you and Ernest. Will you take her?"

"Of course we will," Ernest said gruffly before Catherine had a chance. "Doesn't matter of Claire and Jackson were our kids or not, as far as I'm concerned that young lady is our granddaughter. And that young man, our grandson."

Cathy sobbed again, but it was not a broken sound.

"Then let's go," Luna said as she wiped her own eyes. "It's a long trip to Earth."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Luna did not fly them to America, as Catherine thought. Instead, with Daniel acting as a surprisingly capable co-pilot, they flew the cloaked ship to Switzerland. Once landed, Luna and Catherine left Daniel, Cathy and Ernest on the cloaked ship in an empty construction site and walked through the narrow, winding streets of the old city Berne.

The two women moved through the city as if born to it—their manufactured Byrsa clothing was of an unusual style, but not so much as to make anyone think they'd just arrived from another world entirely.

"We need to get you some cash, and then proper IDs," Luna said. "I'm sure you're still wanted by the Yanks, so it would not be wise to go by your normal names. Perhaps you could be Catherine and Ernest Jackson, and Cathy your recently orphaned granddaughter?"

"That would work." As sometimes happened, Catherine simply found herself caught in the wake of Luna's decisions, much like the whole Empire often followedin the wake of the Tripartite Thrones.

Rather than go to a gold buyer directly, they took a cab to a large, imposing bank lined in Doric columns on a narrow street that screamed wealth. Catherine read the sign and looked at Luna.

"A private bank," Luna explained. "In our…previous lives, we did business with them."

They walked through heavy wooden doors into a lobby that looked more like a luxury salon than the entry of a bank. There was only a small desk at the far side of a room lined with expensive leather chairs, sofas and potted plants. The walls and floor were done in exquisite marble, and lined with paintings, some of which Catherine recognized.

The receptionist behind the desk looked just as exquisite—the type of beauty that could only be achieved through a combination of genetics, precisions surgery, and extreme effort. "Can I help you?" she said in perfectly unaccented English. She raised one brow at the two women's appearances, and in so doing indicated they did not truly belong in such a bank.

"Yes, I believe so," Luna said. She stepped behind Catherine to the heavily charmed backpack the taller woman wore and from it removed several bars of Khebbish gold, which she placed on the woman's desk with a deep, heavy thud. "We are interested in establishing an account. We seem to have several tens of million francs' worth of gold and precious stones we're not entirely sure what to do with."

The beautiful thing about Swiss banks, Catherine reflected, was that they never asked questions.

Two hours later, they two left the bank and took a cab to the American consulate. "Why so much?" she finally asked.

Luna shrugged. "You and Ernest deserve it. And so does Cathy. We want to make sure that none of you want for anything."

Their task at the consulate was a little more esoteric. In fact, Luna had to leave Catherine in a café a few blocks down while she entered the consulate alone. When she arrived two hours later, she carried a manila folder filled with documents.

Catherine looked them over, surprised to find visas for herself, Ernest and Cathy, as well as passports, birth certificates and even letters of reference for a company in southern France. "You've been living and working in Marseille for the past few years," Luna explained over a latte. "However, your daughter and son in law, and three of their children, were killed in a car crash. You decided to return to America with your only surviving grandchild. Your daughter and her husband were in the export business, and left you a considerable sum in their wills to care for Catherine with."

Catherine absorbed it all in silence. "Should I even ask how you got all this? Even our pictures?"

"Computers in 1981 are very primitive," Luna assured her.

The date startled her. "It's 1981?"

"Yes, actually. I was born four weeks ago. Or I would have been, had our race existed any longer in this reality." She sipped her latte again. "I miss this. In a way, I envy you. To be able to step back and just…just live. To have children, to be a wife and have a family…"

It was the first time in all the years Catherine had known Luna that she'd heard anything like that statement. It was startling at first. "Do you…do you regret what you did?"

Luna's gaze took on a distant look. "I wouldn't have survived any other way," she said. "When Harry came back, even after Hermione helped banish the worst of his Sith tendencies, they were still both sliding back into darkness. They would have tried to conquer our world by force. I still have nightmares about all the blood they would have shed."

Catherine's hands shook as she sipped her own drink. "So you…sacrificed yourself to save the world?"

"I think that's how I rationalized it," Luna said. "Mind you, it was twenty or so years ago. But I think, when I'm honest with myself, that I wanted to share their power. I'd been picked on and tormented as a young girl because my perceptions were warped by the Force. I was broken, in a real sense, when I saw my mother die. Harry fixed me. More than that, he loved me. His love is like a fire, it burns if you get too close. I was only fifteen the first time I had sex with him. Hermione was right there, staring at us in shock, because she didn't understand yet that she wasn't enough—that she'd be burned too if I wasn't there to take the fire off her sometimes." Luna shuddered at the memory. "It was overwhelming, and incredible, and I knew that I would never have another man again, even if I lived to be a million years old."

The two sat in utter silence after that, enjoying the cool spring breeze as they drank their coffee. At last, Luna spoke. "They will find you, eventually. They'll want you to help them with the gate. But you know what's out there, Catherine. Slow them down, as much as you can. If Ra discovers Earth, he will destroy it."

"I understand."

"Good. Then it's time for Daniel and I to go, and for you and Ernest to live your lives and raise your granddaughter."

They took a cab back to where the ship was hidden. Inside, Ernest was obviously worried by their long absence until Catherine quickly filled him in on the plan. Daniel, meanwhile, hugged his tear-stricken sister likely for the last time. He then hugged his substitute grandparents.

The odd little family left the ship and emerged in the dusty, empty construction site. Luna and Daniel walked them out, and Luna reached into the wide pockets of her slacks and offered Catherine a small, silver orb adorned with hieroglyphs.

"A communication orb?" Catherine asked.

"A dedicated line to me," Luna said. "If you ever need us, call. I wish Hermione were here to go with you, but…well, she was always the warrior of the two of us, and with the Goa'uld moving against Hebridan, she and Harry were needed there."

"I understand." Catherine hugged the young goddess one last time. "Thank you for all you've done."

"Thank you, for being our friend," Luna said simply, sadly. She took Daniel's hand and led him back into the envelope of invisibility. Daniel turned one last time at the top of the ramp and waived.

Cathy waived back fervently, tears in her eyes.

Moments later, the ramp closed, and with a gust of dust, the al'kesh lifted off, still safely hidden in its cloak. "Let's go home," Ernest suddenly declared.


	30. The War on Drugs

A/N: Chap 29 Review Responses are on my forums as normal. Thank you for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty: The War On Drugs**

They came through the gate over the course of a week—four or five at a time in inconspicuous clumps dressed like traders. Farber was a free trade world, and so had no customs station. It had no mutual defense or formal police force. Criminals were dealt with by neighbors, and dealt with using sufficient brutality to keep crime to a surprisingly low level. There were no courts to appeal to for mercy. In was true, functioning anarchy.

Mostly.

The world was so rife with Goa'uld spies, agents, and Goa'uld themselves that it could also be described as a petri dish of espionage and treachery. Harry came through the third day with a satchel over his back that he'd charmed to hold a hundred times its volume with no corresponding increase in mass.

He eventually made his way to a large warehouse the Lomet Corporation built months before, but which they never actually used. Rather than enter through the front, he took the narrow, filthy back alleys and knocked at a back door. A peephole slid open and dark eyes regarded his face in silence before the door opened.

Harry stepped through into a small, poorly-lit chamber. Each wall of the chamber had narrow slits, just large enough for the barrels of assault rifles to point through. When the door was closed behind him, a second door opened to review a brightly lit open command area. Colonel Tel'gat stood at the threshold of second door, smiling wryly. "Akai'kheb," she said in greeting.

"Tel'gat." Harry stepped through and looked around with satisfaction at the bustling activity within. His Rangers were preparing the world for its surprise "annexation". "Status report?"

"We have twenty-three known targets marked," she said as she accompanied him through the warehouse toward a wide, well-lit table and communications suite that served as the nerve-center for their efforts. "We suspect there are at least fifty more and plan to have them marked before the end of the day."

"And our assets?"

"Two hundred so far, but we're expecting another eighty today."

Harry nodded as they reached the table. The computer console set into the table was of Hebridan design, like most electronics used in the Empire. That would be changing soon, but Harry didn't feel the need to reinvent the wheel. He saw with satisfaction a good, real-time map of the city with occasional red dots moving about. Two dozen unmanned quad-propeller drones hovered far above the town with high-powered cameras and sensors forming a small positioning system within the community. The dots represented those known Goa'uld agents, or occasionally minor Goa'uld themselves, who had already been marked with tracers by the Rangers.

With a touch of a button, a dedicated subspace line opened to an identical table, in a nearly identical warehouse, on the planet Aspiracus. Harry found himself looking down at the face of Teal'c. "General," he said. "Report."

"Akai'kheb, we have marked twenty-eight known targets and expect many more over the next two days. Colonel Tel'gat's Rangers are performing admirably."

"General, you're making me blush," Tel'gat said with a straight face.

"Indeed. We are on track for A-Day in fifty-one hours. I will be returning to oversee deployment personally."

"Very good. We go dark until A-Day. Good luck."

"To you as well, Akai'kheb."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Though Harry would never publicly admit it, and though there would never be any evidence of any kind to suggest it, he knew that his actions on Farber and Aspiracus would result in deaths on Hebridan. He hated the idea because he genuinely enjoyed Hebridan as an ally, but it came down to costs and benefits.

This wasn't like on Erid, where Hermione's presence unintentionally sparked a civil war, either. No, he knew the Goa'uld were looking for a target the moment the first bags of the drug _nishta_ hit the streets of Byrsa. The drugs were like tracers on cash in a police-style sting operation back on Earth. Worse yet, he knew that if the Goa'uld identified Kalmah, Kalhu or even Erid as the source of the Empire's growing power, then those worlds would be obliterated. Hebridan, however, had a sophisticated defensive network that had held off a past Goa'uld attack successfully, and so had a much better chance of bearing the brunt of any new Goa'uld aggression.

Harry sent agents into the drug markets on Farber and Aspiracus and began to manipulate where the drugs went. More than once he personally intervened, influencing the Goa'uld agents who ran the _nishta_ cartels into believing that Hebridan had the largest market.

Worse yet, Hebridan _did_ have the largest market, once Harry directed the drugs into it. The Byrsa where not above using drugs—it was actually largely ingrained in their society, but their numbers were still relatively small. The Eridians still had lingering religious qualms about using any mind-altering drugs. The Hebridians, however, had a secular culture with a thriving drug-using community that snapped up the _nishta_ much as Americans sniffed up cocaine in the 1980s.

Sometimes at night, while meditating, Harry would attempt to rationalize his actions, but in the end he had no choice but to face the simple fact that not only was he responsible for the inevitable Goa'uld attack on Hebridan, but also the drug problem that had been vexing his allies for the years leading up to the war.

It began on A-Day, almost seven years after the founding of the Empire of Kheb and over 13 years since Harry, Hermione and Luna found themselves exiled to this strange, magic-less universe.

As night fell on Farber, two hundred Khebbish Rangers—composed primarily of Mal Jaffa, Byrsa and an increasing number of Eridu—spread out like ghosts over the roofs of the city. Using high powered sniper rifles and adaptive camouflage, they began to using stun-rounds to incapacitate all the known and marked Goa'uld agents. It was likely they missed a few, but Harry was satisfied with the efforts they made.

As the Rangers began bringing their quarry back to the command center for aggressive interrogations, the Stargate burst to life and the mechanical infantry of the Empire of Kheb began flying through.

The size of the Stargate put a hard limit on the size of any vehicles they could deploy. The gate was 4.6 meters in diameter, but had a floor clearance of less than three meters wide with most ramps. In comparison, the American main battle tank was almost four meters wide at the base.

Added to that was the fact that staff and laser cannons were powerful enough to easily punch through any armor that could fit through the gate. While ceramic armor could absorb enough heat to block a shot from a staff weapon, the heavier staff cannons could easily reduce even a heavily armored tank to molten slag in seconds.

Of course, that was using conventional armor. With the aid of the Hebridan defense forces, Harry adopted a small shield array that would have been familiar to droideka designers in the old Corusca galaxy where he became a Sith, and put them on what amounted to a steel-frame dune-buggy equipped with two mounted repeater blaster rifles where rear-view mirrors would ordinarily be on a civilian automobile, and a mounted staff cannon for a standing gunner in the back. Rather than traditional rubber wheels, the vehicle rolled on wire-mesh wheel drums that could not deflate and could take an extraordinary amount of damage before shredding.

The entire chassis was built over a heavily armored, V-shaped base and axle that could redirect most mine explosions and was powered by a single Hebridan fuel cell that could keep the vehicle running at full power for a week at a time. More importantly, though, the relatively inexpensive vehicles allowed Harry to project power quickly over a larger area than the traditional Goa'uld military approach of plain infantry, with the occasional al'kesh for support or transport.

They came through now, one after the other, ten every single minute, for twenty straight minutes. Immediately following were the soldiers of Kalmah, again a mix of Mal or older true Jaffa, Byrsa and a large number of Eridu. They came in two columns carrying projectile assault rifles, though two out of every five also carried staff weapons and zat guns. They came through at a fast march while far ahead, the assault vehicles zoomed out of the center of town to form a perimeter to cut off any escape.

By this time, people had already begun to emerge from their homes and businesses despite the late hour to see what was happening, only to scream and flee back inside. So far, no one had resisted, and Harry hoped the annexation would be as bloodless as possible, since he knew greater battles were coming.

Everything went well until they flushed out the drug cartel itself, and the true origins of the drug made itself known. Armored Jaffa bearing staff weapons and portable cannons began firing on a column of soldiers in one of the many narrow, winding streets of the city.

Thirty soldiers died instantly, while the rest scattered and began to return fire. Unfortunately for the Khebbish soldiers, two more buildings across the street erupted in staff weapon fire, catching the whole column in a withering cross-fire.

Harry was in the command center when the drones overhead alerted them of the fire-fight seconds before the first calls started coming in. "I would suggest it's time for heavy weapons, Akai'kheb," Tel'gat said with a grim expression. Already, the casualty count was starting to rise.

"It appears so. Form up the perimeter and start passing out the pamphlets."

"Yes, Akai'kheb."

Harry disappeared from the command center with a pop and reappeared high in the air above the fire fight, held aloft by magic alone. He let the Force guide his eyes until he could clearly see the situation.

The Jaffa had already blasted a three-block perimeter around their collection of now six buildings and had successfully driven the Khebbish column back. Several assault vehicles arrived and were returning heavy fire, but many of the buildings appeared to be shielded.

"They have a buried al'kesh," Harry realized aloud. Goa'uld rarely shielded structures, but the shields of an al'kesh could be extended, and also provided the Goa'uld agents a swift and secure means of escape.

Harry had no answer to the al'kesh. His assault was infantry only. An armored Goa'uld bomber could reduce the entire city to rubble from ten thousand feet and there was little Harry would be able to do about it.

He reached for the lightsabers on his belt—weapons he'd not had to use in combat since Erid—and apparated to the roof of one of the Jaffa strongholds. Knowing time was of the essence, he only used the blades to deflect staff weapon fire that was strong enough that even his magical shields would be hard-pressed to stop. The moment the Jaffa realized an enemy was in their midst, they responded with a speed no ordinary human could match.

Harry was no ordinary human either, and the blast of Force-lightning was beyond anything even the most powerful Jaffa could stand up to. The men cried out or grunted in pain as the lightning blasted them from the roof of the building. Quickly, he turned his attention to the nearest other building. With both hands outstretched, he summoned the Force to his will in a storm of power. With downward swipes of his arms, he collapsed the wooden structure so thoroughly it looked to the outsiders as if an invisible giant had stepped on it.

By this time, all the Jaffa realized a much more dire threat was in their midst than just the soldiers on their perimeter. As they turned their weapons onto Harry, though, it opened the door for the Khebbish soldiers to swarm the perimeter almost unopposed. Meanwhile, Harry leaped onto the roof of the closest building and quickly swept the roof of Jaffa. Below, he saw more Jaffa pouring into the street from the lower floors while they fired on his people from the upper levels.

Narrowing his eyes, his anger at seeing his men cut down fueled the Force as he tore down yet another building, crushing the Jaffa inside. More Imperial assault vehicles poured through the perimeter on the far side, providing shielding to the infantry while using their staff cannons to catch the Jaffa forces in a cross-fire.

Meanwhile, Harry continued to pull down their buildings until the entire Jaffa quarter was reduced to piles of rubble. His attack was an energy the Jaffa shields could not stop. Unfortunately, the Jaffa chose that moment to try and escape.

The air took on an ominous hum and the shield bubble surged up. Jaffa and Khebbish soldiers alike were thrown away like ragdolls as an al'kesh exploded from the rubble, finishing off the destruction Harry had started just from its emergence. As large as any three buildings on the planet, the craft hovered over the battle field like a vengeful god ready to lay waste to everything.

Even the lone building Harry commanded was destroyed like so much tinder. He apparated back to the edge of the Khebbish perimeter, startling his own men, and watched as the al'kesh hovered and warmed up its weapons. "Stand your ground!" Harry shouted. His magically amplified voice rang through the whole quarter.

Gripping his lightsabers, he began running over the piles of rubble and fallen bodies toward the al'kesh. The pilots must have seen him since the whole ship oriented toward him. With a shout, Harry launched himself into the air. Power surged through him, a blending of Force and magic so thoroughly not even he could tell which was which, and again slashing his arms down he struck the al'kesh with a huge blow of invisible, kinetic power.

The one hundred and fifty meter long bomber shot down to the ground as if struck by a divine cricket bat and slammed hard into the ground. It was a testament to Goa'uld construction that the ship immediately rose back into the air, only for Harry to repeat the blow twice more. The third time the ship crashed, it did not rise again into the air.

The surviving Jaffa stood from their cover and stared, slack-jawed and uncomprehending, at the impossible sight. With the immediate threat over, Harry walked more calmly over the rubble and looked around at the enemy soldiers that surrounded him.

"I am the Akai'kheb!" he said. With magic, there was no need to shout to make himself heard. "I am the savior of the Jaffa from their Goa'uld masters. Many of the soldiers you fight today are the children of Jaffa just like yourselves, children who live whole and strong without the need to carry a larva Goa'uld. They are truly free and call themselves the Mal Jaffa. I can offer the same freedom to your own children, but only if you lay down your arms."

Deciding a little theatricality was in order, Harry levitated above the rubble. The volume of his voice trebled. "Choose now! Freedom for you and your children, or death in service to your false gods!"

Harry was not surprised when a quarter of the Jaffa threw down their weapons, and the remainder turned their weapons on their comrades for their lack of loyalty. Fortunately, Tel'gat and her Rangers were nothing if not prompt. Sniper rifles barked all around the perimeter, using large-caliber, armor-piercing rounds to punch large holes in nearly every Jaffa loyalist who had exposed himself.

Harry let himself sink back down to the rubble—the Battle of Farber was done for now. The larger battles were soon to come. He knew he was about the rip the tenuous peace the galaxy enjoyed to shreds.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"…now have control of the city. However, the al'kesh did considerable damage before leaving. The death toll appears to be close to forty percent of the civilians." Teal'c finished his report with the same terse efficiency he did everything. It was no shock that Aspiracus had a buried al'kesh just like Faber did. Unfortunately, Teal'c did not have a Force-sensitive wizard or witch there to handle it. Luna was taking the Littlefields back to Earth and Hermione was sitting over Parliament and in general keeping the Empire going.

The Command Center around Harry buzzed with activity as his Empire consolidated its control over the trading world. Kisher Lomet was out in the street acting as Kheb's official ambassador and an unofficial governor to help the civilians adjust to the establishment of a central government. The man had gone completely gray and lost a great deal of weight in the past few years, especially after both his girls married and made him a grandfather, but Luna insisted he was still healthy despite his years. His health was essential because Lomet was himself a business leader and spoke the language of the traders on Farber. In fact, many already knew him personally because of his grocery markets.

He worked his own unique magic now, managing with words alone to calm the frayed tempers and rampant fears of the population while Harry could concentrate on the next steps of a quickly escalating situation. Unfortunately, things were not going nearly as well with the other trade world as he'd hoped. Teal'c was a solid, able commander, but the Force was not with him, and he could only make decisions based on what he knew, rather than what the Force could tell him.

"What's left over there, Teal'c?"

"Little, Akai'kheb," Teal'c admitted grimly. "The enemy Jaffa fought valiantly to the last man and there were far more on this world than our intelligence led us to believe. We found large underground bunkers that we could not have accounted for. Most of the surviving civilians are displaced, and many wounded. Hunger, disease and fresh water will be an issue all too soon."

"Damn," Harry said aloud. He straightened and looked into the distance, trying his best to feel from the Force some hint of which decision was best. He found himself wishing Luna were there—her vision was always so much clearer.

Harry knew with certainty the Goa'uld would counter-attack, but the question was where. While the System Lords kept a close eye on Farber and Asperacus, they could take the two worlds at any time. The trading worlds existed solely at the discretion of the Goa'uld, and losing them was not a direct blow to any particular System Lord since none specifically claimed them.

Granted, the System Lords could easily mount an offensive against both worlds simultaneously, but that wasn't their normal means of operating. Ha'taks were so huge and so expensive that the Goa'uld liked to apply as little pressure as possible to obtain their desired goals. He also knew Hebridan was a likely target, but Harry believed any attack against Hebridan would occur after the Goa'uld's initial lashing of the two trade worlds for their impertinence.

He felt as if he stood on the brink of something momentous, but for some reason he just could not see it. As he reached for the event in the Force, he suddenly became aware of how _noisy_ the command center was. Technicians were speaking over each other into their various headsets as they tried to coordinate the soldiers and the incoming humanitarian aid. On the com, Teal'c continued to wait patiently, as he did everything. It was amazing that such a cool-tempered man could have married a firebrand like Ishta. Worse yet, both his daughters took after their mother.

He needed… "Teal'c, I sense something happening. I need to meditate on this. Contact Headquarters and have them start bringing humanitarian aid through, but stay on alert. Something is happening."

"Yes, Akai'kheb"

He nodded briefly to Tel'gat before he disapparated directly from the headquarters.

The mountains he reappeared in were twenty miles to the north of the city. New and sharply defined, the rocky peaks provided a spectacular view of the plains that once held a shallow, fresh-water sea, before the Goa'uld vaporized much of the surface water. He could just make out the plateau the city and gate of Farber rested on.

The clearing around him held more life that he'd ever seen on the world—tough mountain grasses and small conifer trees that clung tenaciously to the mountain sides. If he listened, he could hear the distant buzz of flying insects and a hint of running water far away.

He settled into lotus position and tried to meditate, but as always it was difficult for him to give himself up to the Force. He'd been trained to control the Dark Side, and surrendering that control was always difficult. The only way he'd found over the years was to concentrate on his wives—on the shapes of their bodies and the sounds they made when they loved him.

The vision, when it came, swept through his memories like a typhoon. He found himself standing on the edge of the ocean on Hebridan as the skies rained fire. Looking up, he could see the massive customs space station falling in a rain of debris into the atmosphere while pyramid-shaped stars glittered in the reddened skies.

The vision left him gasping and wrung out as he realized where the attack would come. The Goa'uld knew where Kalmah was—perhaps they had always known. But despite Harry's best efforts, his young Empire still did not have sufficient ships to pose a genuine threat to the System Lords.

The Hebridan, though, did have ships. Moreover, at Harry's urging the Hebridan merchants had spread out as well, expanding their mercantile empire to dozens of worlds, many of which were perilously close to those controlled by the System Lords. Nor was the attack completely unexpected—much of their plans were predicated on making Hebridan a target. But Hebridan had a healthy defense, and any attack by the System Lords would have been prohibitively expensive. Instead, Harry fully expected the System Lords to make a cursory attempt just for show.

He was wrong. There were no Goa'uld ships in orbit because they were all on their way to Hebridan.

With a burst of will and magic, Harry returned to the Command Center and slapped the communication table. Rather than pull up just Teal'c, he opened up a channel with the Imperial Defense Forces Headquarters in Byrsa City as well. Bra'tac himself personally answered.

"Akai'kheb, I am just now preparing aid for…"

"Bra'tac, Teal'c, the Goa'uld are going to attack Hebridan in force. They may have already begun. Bra'tac, I need An'hur to prepare three wings and have them loaded into our ha'tak as soon as possible."

"Three wings, Akai'kheb?" Bra'tac said, blinking in surprise. "That will leave us only one for defense."

"We have to hope our surprise is ready if the Goa'uld attack us directly," Harry countered. "This has to be done. Mobilize the 2nd Division as well and have them report to the ha'tak with all of our al'kesh. Hold nothing back."

"What of Aspiracus, Akai'kheb?" Teal'c asked.

"Teal'c, we're going to have to consolidate. Start gating the civilians to Farber and set up temporary housing and then come through yourselves. Bra'tac, I'm going to lead the Hebridan expedition myself—I'll be through shortly."

Both Jaffa nodded their assent before Harry cut the channel. He straightened to see the entire command center staring at him. "Colonel Tel'gat?"

"Sir?"

"Recall all Rangers to Kalmah immediately. You're with me."

Tel'gat gave a grim, satisfied smile. "As it should be, Akai'kheb."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Despite having a standing army of almost a hundred thousand men and women; despite having four wings, each with fifty Z-95 Headhunter Starfighters; despite all this, Harry had a whopping total of one ha'tak mother ship—the one he obtained when he and his people killed Tilgath and took Kalhu.

His pitiful navy also now had a dozen al'kesh he'd either purchased or stolen over the years, but the fact was the entirety of his space-based military could easily fit inside his one ha'tak ship. The System Lords, on the other hand, could easily field hundreds if not thousands of ha'taks, perhaps even more. This was because, even though it could take a century to build a single ha'tak, the Goa'uld had been building them for 20,000 years, and the damned things never stopped working. Even an Imperial Star Destroyer from Harry's brief life in the Corusca Galaxy would be hard-pressed to destroy a ha'tak, and would never be expected to remain operational for more than a century, much less a millennia.

When Harry, Tel'gat and the whole ranger division came through the gate, he was pleased to see Headhunters already in the air flying toward the ha'tak in orbit. Even as he walked toward the line of trucks that would transport his people to the base, he saw an al'kesh rising into the air as well. And because he was back on his world, he had wireless communication again through his wrist com.

"Bra'tac, I'm back on planet," he said. "What's our status?"

"We are transporting men and support staff aboard now, Akai'kheb," the Commanding General of the IDF said. In peace time Bra'tac handled the military academy, but once hostilities started Harry did not hesitate to take advantage of his century of experience as a former First Prime. "And a surprise awaits you at the air field."

"Good." Harry disconnected and leaned back—he'd been running non-stop for the past thirty eight hours. With a start, he realized Tel'gat had done the same. He glanced at her and saw that her normal stoic countenance was firmly in place, but her dark hair was a little more unkempt than normal, and her uniform rumpled and dirty from the operations on Faber.

"Once we're on board, I want all the rangers to get sack time," he said. "Yourself included, Colonel."

It was a testament to how very tired she was that Tel'gat simply nodded her head in mute acceptance.

He himself leaned back and closed his eyes—not sleeping, but simply resting his eyes. He discovered that despite not truly needing sleep, his eyes did get tired and dry if he pushed himself hard enough. Doing so, he felt a wonderful, familiar presence that brought a smile to his lips.

When they finally reached the airfield, it was to see a column of soldiers waiting for the return of the al'kesh to transport them to the ha'tak. Harry refused to build a pyramid on Kalmah, so they did not have surface loading capabilities yet. In the distance, he saw a flash of white as the orbiting ha'tak also transported people using its ring transporter.

But what caught his eye was the one al'kesh waiting just for him, and the petite figure with the white-blonde hair standing near the ramp. "Rangers, there's our ride," he said aloud. "Start loading up."

Around him, exhausted rangers shook themselves awake and gathered their battlepacks. Harry himself hopped out and walked toward his wife. As he did so, he noticed Hermione herself walking down the ramp. "You look tired," Luna said with a touch of sadness.

Behind them, a lost-looking Daniel Jackson walked down the ramp. "You two look like you just lost your best friends," Harry said of the two.

Luna simply hugged him. "Take Hermione, she's the more powerful fighter. I'll stay here with Daniel."

Harry looked over her at the distraught young man. Not only had Daniel lost his parents, but now his grandparents and sister. With a glance at Luna, he walked up to the young Force-sensitive and gripped his shoulder. "We're your family now, Daniel. And someday, you will see them again. Until then, I will be your father, and Luna and Hermione your mothers."

The young man blushed, and Harry couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, fine, your uncle and two uncomfortably attractive aunts. Better?"

"Yes, sir." The blush flared brighter, but it did coax a smile from him. "Thank you, sir."

Harry nodded, and then turned back to Luna. He leaned down to kiss her, and with the physical contact came a flow of information. She'd had his same vision, but with much more clarity. "You don't have much time," she said when their lips parted. "Hurry, Harry. Save as many as you can."

"I will. Contact Omac. He's not going to be pleased."

"I should think not. We just did precisely what he told us not to do."


	31. Miscalculation

A/N: Chap 30 Review Responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-One: Miscalculation**

"Bugger me."

It was the only thing Harry could say when they reverted from hyperspace in the Hebridan system. Beside him, Hermione gripped his hand but made no effort to correct him on his language. Sometimes certain words just had to be said.

"How many?" Harry asked after trying and failing to count the Goa'uld motherships.

An'hur, in the post of First Prime, turned and met Harry's eyes squarely. "Over two hundred ha'taks, Akai'kheb. Hundreds of al'kesh and thousands of death gliders. Even as a Jaffa of Apophis, I've never seen such a force assembled. Only Ra himself could call so many ships."

His vision had been terribly true—from his seat on the central throne of the pel'tak he could clearly see one of the huge Hebridan orbital customs stations breaking up and falling to the surface of the planet. The view wall showed everything in stark, terrifying clarity. Further away, barely visible over the planet's horizon, a second customs station glowed with various billows of flame from out-gassing atmosphere. If they were any closer, he had no doubt he could have seen bodies being ejected.

He had three wings of fifty fighters and one ha'tak. While they were a match one on one with the best Death Gliders, launching them into numbers they faced would be throwing away the lives and planes. "Oh Harry," Hermione whispered. "Is there anything we can do at all?"

The ha'taks had formed an umbrella over the dark side of the planet and rained down a constant barrage of staff cannon fire. It reminded Harry of a Base Delta Zero order from the Empire—the utter glassing of a planet's surface.

"Anything on the official channels?" Hermione asked.

Another of the older true Jaffa shook his head. "Nothing but screams for help, Lady," he said grimly. "There was a report of the President's bunker being hit. The defense forces are in complete disarray. No one knows who is in command."

Harry stood from the throne. "Bring up tactical view."

Like Goa'uld ships, the computers that ran them were the most powerful thing outside of artificial intelligence Harry had ever seen. In a second the view showed a near perfect tactical representation of Hebridan with the overwhelming enemy and the tattered, shattered defensive line in a series of colored dots.

Because of the common defense clause of the treaty between the Empire and Hebridan, Harry knew the customs stations boasted significant defenses. However, he also knew that the system had a weapon of last resort on its relatively small moon. That base, hidden under the surface, was silent despite the moon being within line of sight of the attacking ships.

"I do have friendly activity, Akai'kheb," An'hur said. "On the far side of the planet. There appears to be a line of transports attempting to escape. There are thirty ha'taks closing on them."

Even thirty ha'taks was more than Harry could hope to take on with his one ship. His eyes, though, were drawn to the dormant moon base. "An'hur, open a Hebridan gold channel communication to the moon base, tight beam transmission."

In moments, a harried-looking Serrikin hybrid responded, his face dominating the viewer. "Who is this? This is a…" His golden eyes widened, obviously recognizing the image he saw.

"Your world is dying," Harry said, his anger at the situation honing in on this target. "Why aren't you firing?"

The flustered being clicked his tongue before answering. "We are under orders to hold fire until Central indicates otherwise. With Central gone, if we open fire the Goa'uld will be on us in seconds. Our best hope is to wait until the attack is passed and help the civilians."

Harry, noticing the man's insignia, rose from his feet. "Third Commander, this isn't a harvest. It is an extermination. There won't be any civilians left for you to assist. And whether you fire now or not, you are going to die. The Goa'uld are not fools—they will not leave until your base is destroyed as well. But right now there is a flotilla of transports filled with your people trying to escape the far side of the planet, and the Goa'uld are about to destroy them. I and my people are willing to fight and die to save as many civilians as we can, but we won't have any chance of success unless you can pull enough attention away from those refugees for us to make a difference."

He stopped right before the viewer, staring at the terrified, defeated hybrid. "So it seems to me the only choice you have left is whether to die a coward, carried to darkness by the screams of all those dead you could have saved, or to die like a soldier of Hebridan."

The man stared back with his wide golden eyes set in a face ridged with his half-Serrikin heritage. "Damn you," he finally said. With a downward slap of his hand, he cut the connection. The viewer automatically switched back to the actual, computer-enhanced view of high orbit. As they watched, a sudden streak of white light seemed to reach backward from one of the ha'taks heading toward the refugee convoy to the moon itself. A split second later the ha'tak shattered in a brilliant plume of exploding atmosphere, followed immediately by darkness.

"What was that?" An'hur asked, stunned.

"Heavy rail gun," Harry said. "They have three. They had to put them on the moon because they were too large for the surface or even a ship."

A second odd white streak of reverse light marked a second rail gun shot. They could not see the projectile, but Harry knew it was a two-ton depleted uranium slug fired at almost three quarters the speed of light to create a relativistic kill weapon equal in brute destructive power to the most powerful turbolaser in the ancient Corusca galaxy. While it was a fearsome weapon, the energy requirements and recharge rate made it a weapon of last resort. It would do significant damage, but it could not stop the fleet.

The third commander was also correct in his assessment of what would happen the moment he opened fire.

All but four of the enemy ha'taks left off their pursuit of the refugees and rejoined a massive taskforce of over fifty ha'taks heading toward the moon. Even as they approached, the third rail gun fired, shattering a third ha'tak. Minutes later the base's defensive screens began to light up as the first al'kesh and death gliders arrived.

"An'hur, open a broadcast on all Hebridan frequencies," Harry said. He turned to Hermione. "Go get ready for boarding. We're going to have to even the odds against the remaining ha'taks."

She nodded, kissed his cheek, and then disapparated away with a spin.

"Channel open," An'hur announced.

"This is commander of the Khebbish forces responding under treaty. Per Article 24 of the Common Defense clause, Chap 402, I, Harry Potter, am taking command of all remaining defensive forces of Hebridan. All functioning military ships are to converge in Sector 256-81 and form up for the defense of evacuating civilians. We are transmitting friend or foe transponder codes now. All refugees are to make their way to the planet Kalmah. General An'hur of Kheb will coordinate. Respond!"

Scattered, harried responses began to trickle in as the blocky Hebridan fighter ships broke away from whatever engagements they were in and began to make their way to the tattered line of refugees.

"An'hur, get us there fast."

"Very well, Akai'kheb."

One of the many differences in technology between what Harry was exposed to in the Corusca Galaxy and the Milky Way was how gravity affected hyperspace engines. No ship in the Corusca galaxy could accelerate into hyperspace within the gravity well of a planet. Hyperspace lanes had to be carefully plotted into well-known lanes because, while they skirted the higher dimensions to exceed the speed of light, enough of the ship's mass remained in real space to be affected by stellar masses—sometimes with disastrous results.

The Goa'uld hyperdrive, stolen from the Ancients, took ships entirely into the exotic dimension of hyperspace, removing its mass entirely from real space. So while even the most advanced star destroyer would have taken nearly half an hour to go from the extreme high orbit to the low orbit on the far side of a planet, An'hur took their ha'tak there in five seconds.

He felt nothing within the artificial gravity of the great mother ship, but the view of zooming into a line of terrified civilian freighters and transports made even Harry feel some nausea. He saw immediately that the four ha'taks that had not converged on the moon were already there, targeting the convoy of refugees.

"An'hur, get the boarding parties ready and tell those civilians who we are. Launch everything we have and target the two farthest ships. Hermione and I will take the near vessels."

An'hur grinned. "You mean to go shopping, then, Akai'kheb?"

"Indeed." With that, Harry spun and apparated to the ring room. Hermione was already there with a squad of five rangers on the ring platform. Hundreds more rangers and regular infantry waited their turn.

"We have our targets?" she asked.

"We do. Good luck."

She nodded, looking ravishing in her heavily enchanted naquedah armor. She nodded as the rings fell down around them. She and the rangers disappeared in a flash of white light moments later.

"Tel'gat, come over after I've secured the ring room," he ordered.

The colonel nodded. "Consider it done."

The five rangers that accompanied Harry were all older—from the first batch he led during the conquest of Kalhu and the liberation of Erid. They were the most veteran, capable fighters he had, and had fought beside him many times before. "We get through this, the first drink's on me," he told them.

"The second as well, Akai'kheb?" one of the Mal Jaffa rangers said.

Harry grinned. "A keg a piece." He turned to Tel'gat and nodded. The rings descended, and a flash of white later Harry found himself in a nearly identical room surrounded by a hemisphere of staff weapons. He exploded with a wave of kinetic energy that knocked every man back before even the first shot was fired.

The rangers rolled off the platform, firing heavy-caliber carbines to save their zat'nikitel's for when they ran out of ammunition. Harry activated both lightsabers and apparated to the ring control panel. The two Jaffa there had never seen anything like apparation and had no defense against it. Harry quickly decapitated both.

The ring flashed again as more rangers arrived, but Harry was already moving to help the first squad of rangers secure the room. He saw two of his people down, likely already dead. He hated the losses, but securing a beachhead, especially in ship-to-ship combat, was always nasty. He knew that if he'd not led the way, he'd have lost them all.

They knew it as well. In less than one minute of abrupt, jarring violence, they held the ring room. "I'm going to the pel'tak," he ordered. "Spread out to take the ship as reinforcements arrive."

The rangers merely nodded as Harry spun and apparated to the pel'tak. Goa'uld designers were not imaginative at all. The layout of every standard ha'tak was identical, and the bridge he arrived at looked nearly the same as the one on his own ship.

Harry could not afford to hesitate, not against a Goa'uld. He'd learned enough over the years to know that the creatures were far more dangerous than anyone could imagine. So he announced his presence with a massive burst of Force lightning and followed through with lightsabers and killing curses, combining the Force and magic into a lethal spray of energy that caught the Jaffa on the bridge utterly by surprise. He paused long enough only to stun the Prime before securing the only entrance with magic. Only then did he turn to face the Goa'uld who commanded the ship.

It was a female, he saw, stunningly beautiful as all Goa'uld hosts were, with olive skin and rich, black hair that she held back in an intricate webbing of gold strands that matched the golden weave of her dress. Her kara'kesh glowed as she launched her own personal attack against him.

He blew through the attack and fired a killing curse that passed by her shield just as it had with Moloc. As she fell, though, Harry put past experience to good use and followed the curse with a pair of lightsaber swipes that ensured the Goa'uld within the host did not escape. The killing curse killed the host alone; his blade killed the worm within her.

When done, he turned to the stunned Jaffa Prime, leaned down, and ravaged the man's mind so thoroughly spittle ran from his slack jaw by the time Harry was done. He removed the man's head not out of spite, but rather mercy. Harry learned the hard way that stealing security codes from a Goa'uld was an exercise in suicide. So, he ripped them instead from the Prime's much less powerful mind. With those codes, he quickly took control of the Ha'tak. Tapping his wrist com, he said, "Tel'gat, report."

"We have secured the glider bays, but are still encountering stiff resistance," she reported. He could hear the sound of staff fire over the channel. "Regular troops are boarding and we should have the ship secured within the hour."

"Get a crew up here as soon as you can," he ordered.

"Already on their way, Akai'kheb," she said.

The viewing wall blinked. He turned to see a disheveled, bruised Hermione staring back. "We have control of the ship, Harry," she reported.

"Are you alright?"

"The Goa'uld got a lucky blow in," she admitted. "But he's in much worse condition."

Her face moved to one side of the view screen as a second channel opened to reveal An'hur. Next to Hermione, his rich, deep skin looked almost like chocolate. "Akai'kheb, Lady Hermione, we have secured the escape lane. The remnant Hebridan defense forces fell in line and assisted our fighters destroying the remaining two local enemy ships. Fourteen more ha'taks are en route to this position, while many more are landing on the surface outside the area of heaviest bombardment. They appear to be after slaves, Akai'kheb."

"Damn," he whispered. "Status of the civilian transports?"

"They continue to escape, Akai'kheb, in great numbers."

Harry had no doubt his boarding trick would only work once. The moment two formerly friendly ships starting firing on them, the Goa'uld would lock down their rings. The idea of apparating ship to ship was just too dangerous to contemplate. Apparating within a single gravity field was one thing, but trying to apparate onto a ship in relative motion was suicide. He turned as Khebbish Jaffa arrived, already trained in the operations of a ha'tak, and took stations.

"An'hur, signal all remaining Hebridan defense forces to fall back into a defensive formation to protect the civilians ships as long as possible. Keep our ha'taks here until we have no choice to retreat, and offer berths to any Hebridan defense fighters that remain. We'll stay as long as we can to cover them, but do not endanger our ships. Hermione, are you still there?"

"I'm here."

"Ring over. I want to pass something by you."

He could see her eyes narrow as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, but merely nodded.

"You're going to the surface, then?" An'hur asked, voicing the suspicion his wife so clearly had.

Harry blinked and turned to the general. The old Jaffa, who though he looked thirty was actually approaching seventy, stared back calmly. "What makes you think that?"

"These are the people that helped you free my children from the bonds of their slavery," An'hur said with the same grave calm that Teal'c and Bra'tac both possessed. "I have known you many years, Akai'kheb. You will do all you can to save as many as you can."

Glancing around the room, Harry saw many of the other Jaffa watching him as well. "You're right, I'm going. I'm hoping I might even be able to steal another ha'tak or two. I need you here, now, but I will consider taking volunteers."

"I will ensure the men know," An'hur said.

"Thank you. General, you are in command. Your orders are to save as many civilians as possible without placing our ha'taks in too much jeopardy. Make no attempt to retrieve any parties that may go to the surface. If we go down, we'll be on our own."

"Understood, Akai'kheb."

By the time Harry reached the ring room, not only was Hermione there, but Tel'gat was as well. "We've secured the ship," she said to him when he walked in. "General An'hur mentioned you might be heading to the surface. This ship never launched its al'kesh—there are three fueled and ready to launch. Their cloaking devices are all working properly."

"What's the mission, Harry?" Hermione asked. What she meant was: _What do you hope to accomplish?_

"The Goa'uld are taking slaves," Harry said. "They've landed some ha'taks on the surface for faster loading. I say we go liberate some slaves, and maybe one or two more ha'taks in the process."

Tel'gat cleared her throat. "I took the liberty of informing any potential volunteers to assemble in the hangar, Sir. After all, quite a few of us are Mal Jaffa, and I personally remember my first visit to Hebridan."

Harry couldn't help but grin and put a hand on the woman's shoulders. "Then let's go to work, Tel'gat."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Daniel Jackson fell to the hard floor of his room in the Tripartite Palace with a slapping sound of flesh against tile. He jerked back from the cold floor and looked around him in alarm, but he could not see any sign of the fiery rain that filled his sleep. Instead, it was the same room he'd lived in since that day when his parents and two youngest siblings died.

The air around him seemed to tremble in anticipation of something terrible, so much so there was no possibility of him finding sleep again. Remembering what Luna and Hermione both told him during his last month of training, Daniel didn't even try. Instead, he stood and threw on some clothes.

His original wardrobe—the sturdy slacks and tunics common to most teenage students on Kalmah—were destroyed with his family. What replaced them were finely woven, manufactured clothes of the kind only the wealthiest residents of Kalmah could afford. The slacks were a genetically engineered cotton/polymer weave that felt like silk but could resist tears and cuts. His tunics were of similar fabric—luxuriously soft but sturdy, all designed to give him maximum flexibility as his training in the Force had progressed from the purely mental to the more physical regimens.

The boots he put on were the same style Uncle Harry himself actually wore. Daniel could have stepped on a nail point up and it would not have pierced the boot. Over the tunic he strapped on his utility belt, something Harry himself always wore. Daniel didn't have a lightsaber yet, but all three of the Tripartite assured him he would have one before his seventeenth birthday. Instead, disturbed by the feeling in the air, Daniel hung a personal zat gun to his belt. The gun was a gift from Luna. "Until you have a more elegant weapon to defend yourself," she'd told him.

Dressed and as prepared as possible, Daniel left the room and entered the hall of the residential wing of the palace. The palace, when originally constructed, once sat well outside the main urban rea of the city of Byrsa. Just in the past few years the city sprawl had come within a mile of the palace's outer gardens, forcing Parliament and the Throne to claim the lands around it as an Imperial preserve.

Daniel wasn't surprised to find a ranger sitting a few feet down the hall behind a security checkpoint. "Can I help you, Mr. Jackson?" the Byrsa woman asked politely.

"I…I need to see the Empress," Daniel said.

The woman's face blanked, obviously hiding a frown at what she viewed as an impertinent request. The palace staff was still adjusting to the addition of Daniel to the residential wing, and just what his role and relationship to the Tripartite Throne was. However, after checking her terminal the ranger nodded. "You have free reign of the palace, Mr. Jackson. The Empress is in the solarium."

"Thank you," Daniel said with a nod. He turned and walked quickly down the wide hall with its ornately carved arches and columns. The walls held a few occasional statues on chest-high pedestals, but the Byrsa and Kalhu humans had little artistic history, and while the Eridu did, almost all of their art was theological in nature and not suitable for the halls of the Empire.

Eventually he reached the wide stairs that led up to the solarium. While extravagant by Byrsa standards, the palace itself was not that huge of a building. It held dozens of offices and conference rooms for the executive levels of the Imperial staff, but the residential wing held only sixteen suites, including those used by the Imperial family and Daniel himself. While everything was made with the best materials availability, there was about the palace an air of functionality he appreciated. The largest reception hall was still smaller than the gymnasium in a typical school. No, the only space that could be said to be a luxury was the solarium.

The solarium rose above the rest of the palace in a great cylinder, a hundred feet in diameter, to a series of exquisitely carved arches that supported a single pane of fiberglass. The walls were lined in dozens of tall, narrow windows, making the room the brightest space in the palace. The floors were paved with tiles, each bearing what Luna called a Rune, forming a spiral of symbols twisting out in two matching arms from the very center.

When they meditated, it was either in the training room in the basement, or here in the solarium.

Through the windows, he could see just the faintest blush of light—more of a lessening of the darkness than true dawn. However, a few wall scones provided a faint illumination within the Solarium itself. And there, dressed as she had been the previous day, he found Luna, Vice Empress, speaking with Daniel's finishing school teacher.

No, not just talking. From her placating body language, Daniel could see she was begging the man for something. Omac caught sight of Daniel first, eyes widening in surprise. Luna merely glanced over her shoulder, and in so doing shocked Daniel. Her eyes were red and moist.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't…"

"It's alright, Daniel," Luna said in a thick voice. "You saw fire in the sky, didn't you?"

It never ceased to amaze Daniel how perceptive the Vice Empress was. "I did," he admitted. "Was it…was that Hebridan?"

"Hebridan has fallen," Omac said. While his tone still held that wonderful, inviting calm he used with his students, he seemed somehow more authoritative. "Just as we feared."

Luna bowed her head, as if chastised. It was the most unusual gesture Daniel had ever seen from her—or any of the Tripartite, really. "What's happening?"

"Omac did not come just to teach, Daniel," Luna explained. "He was an emissary from the Curia of Tollan."

 _Tollan?_ Suddenly Daniel remembered from his galactic cultures class, just a mention. The Tollan were considered the most technologically advanced race to exist outside the Alliance of Five Ancient Races that created the Stargate network millions of years ago. Suddenly, Daniel felt the Force tremble around him as visions swirled in his head.

"The Goa'uld are coming here, and we won't be able to stop them," he said, his heart clenching in fear. "They're following the Hebridan refugees since they can't attack through our gate."

Omac raised on elegant brow. "The intuition your Force provides in impressive," he said, though for all his intuition Daniel could not tell to whom the man spoke. "And it is unfortunate that you did not heed it better. The Curia warned you that your invasion of Aspiracus and Farber would force Ra to intervene personally, and we told you explicitly who he would act against."

"We knew that as well," Luna said. "But none of us foresaw the scale or the timing. We thought he would first send a force against the trade worlds before using us as an excuse to attack Hebridan. Not even I saw this happening."

"Your body and powers may be beyond human, but your mind is not," Omac said, though not unkindly. "You are still young."

"Omac, if we fall, there will be no one able to resist the Enemy!" Luna begged.

"It was this fact alone that prompted my visit, dear lady," Omac said. To Daniel, he sounded like a father disappointed with his child. "You ignored our warnings and proceeded to instigate a course of action that led to the obliteration of an advanced world you called friend. Our estimates put the death toll at over a billion—a billion lives lost as a direct result of your actions. No matter how you justify it or rationalize it, the cost of your miscalculation cannot be denied. We will withdraw the ion cannons. You've demonstrated thoroughly that you cannot be trusted with them."

Daniel listened intently, aware that for the first time the Tripartite Throne was in the subservient position to a more advanced world, and had been found wanting. But he also knew that the Tollan were feared precisely because of those ion cannons. He hadn't even known some were on the planet, but somehow it didn't surprise him. If the Empire had such weapons, they would have a defense the Goa'uld would be hard pressed to overcome.

"Then don't trust us with them," Daniel said softly.

Omac and Luna both turned to face him. Luna's cheek glistened in the light from her tears, while Omac merely raised another brow in inquiry.

"Don't trust us with them," Daniel said again. "Uncle Harry's a warrior—he always will be. That's why the Ancients chose him in the first place, right? If you give him a weapon, he'll use it. So don't give him the weapon. Lease the ion cannons to us with limited terms of use and Tollan personnel to man them, and Tollan computer security to ensure Kheb can't misuse them. Auntie Luna's right, Omac. Even I've had a vision of the Enemy. It's a wave of fire that burns through the whole galaxy leaving nothing but ash in its wake. Not even Tollan can withstand it, not alone."

"Daniel, you know Harry wouldn't accept weapons on Kalmah that weren't in his control," Luna said.

Daniel shrugged. "Then he shouldn't have started a war he couldn't win."

Luna's jaw set as she studied him. Not in anger, Daniel was sure, but appraisingly. She turned to Omac. "We cannot compel, nor would we if we could. We admit fully that we made a dreadful miscalculation. As we speak, Harry and Hermione have gone to the surface of Hebridan to save as many civilians as they can. You know they're not impervious—one orbital strike and they would both die. They're risking their lives to save as many as they can. Please don't let the Hebridan's only refuge be destroyed as well. I will accept any terms and limitations the Curia places on the ion cannons. Harry can damn well build his own if it bothers him that much."

"No, he can't," Omac said, a hint of iron in his voice. "There will be a price if we leave the cannons here. The Curia fears you, Lady. It fears what you and your family are, and what impact you will have on the galaxy. And they will never tolerate an Empire of Kheb that has its own ion cannons. That will be part of the price for our continued cooperation."

Luna lifted her chin bravely. "Then we will have to pay that price, won't we?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Lord Ramius stood on the pel'tak of his mighty warship with arms crossed over his chest. Behind him, fourteen of his best ships flew in tight formation for the heart of this Akai'kheb heresy which had slowly been making its way across the stars. They had left the pitiful refugee fleet from Hebridan behind—it was not worth the trouble of destroying it just yet.

With fourteen ha'tak and a hundred thousand Jaffa warriors, Ramius knew there was only one outcome to this conflict. Just as the despised, cursed Serrikan and their human lackeys perished at the hands of Lord Ra himself, so would the Akai'kheb perish at Ramius's hands, and at last Ramius would ascend into the ranks of the other System Lords when Lord Ra awarded him all of the worlds that had fallen to the heretics.

He ordered their ships to drop out of hyperspace in high orbit, aware that the radiation bursts of their revision would be visible on the surface. "Let them stare up in fear," he whispered. "Jaffa, open…"

"My lord!" Ramius's prime shouted. "The enemy fires at us!"

With a mental note to kill the fool later for interrupting his monologue, Ramius stepped toward the viewer to better see. What he saw made his host's knees tremble. Great gouges of blue light streaked up from the surface, light Ramius had only seen once, many years ago.

"Shields!" he screamed seconds before the first mass of superluminal ions tore through the ha'tak and its shields like paper. Ramius's orders never reached any of the other ships, but even if it had, it would hardly have mattered. Ion cannon technology was one branch of science the Ancients never advanced far in, and so the Goa'uld, who stole all their technology from the Ancients, had no defense against it. The fourteen ha'taks crumbled in quick succession under the withering fire from the surface of Kalmah. The Akai'kheb heresy would continue.


	32. Snow and Ash

A/N: Chap 32 review responses in my forums like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two: Snow and Ash**

The Goa'uld bombardment concentrated on the equatorial regions of the planet which housed the highest concentration of the planet's population. Hebridan was a world of extreme climates in many ways. One whole continent was almost uninhabitable, arid desert, while more land mass was trapped under heavy polar ice.

While the planet was only slightly smaller than Earth, it had a third the arable land to support what had been a relatively huge population of two billion people.

Flying cloaked into the atmosphere, the Force raw like an open wound, Harry knew more than half that number had already died, and the other half was following rapidly. Hermione sat in the co-pilot's seat of the al'kesh as they flew down below the thick layer of ash and debris. Even further north, away from the worst of the bombardment, the world looked like a vision out of Dante. A thick combination of ash and snow fell over a seemingly endless stretch of rubble, marked by the occasional open flame as power lines burned.

Rising from the shroud of smoke, snow and ash, Harry could make out the distant shadow of a pyramid rising like a mountain over the shattered landscape. He banked enough to look down and saw, like ants on a trail, a line of people moving through the rubble toward the distant ha'tak. Their scanners told them a second ha'tak was only a few miles away.

"I guess that's mine, then," Hermione said as she stared at the line of people. She touched the communication orb. "Dolan, land in the crater to the southwest of the slave line. I'll meet you there shortly."

Dolan, the Mal Jaffa pilot of their second al'kesh, pinged a response back, though they could not see him under his cloak. Harry knew it was dangerous flying cloaked with so much particulate matter in the air. The cloak refracted light, but could not refract snow or ash. He brought his own al'kesh around until it hovered over the crater Hermione had indicated. Below, he saw a plum of ash and snow blow out where Dolan's ha'tak landed.

"Nothing we can do could make this right," Hermione said softly, as much to herself as to Harry.

"I know."

She leaned over and kissed him. "Come back to me safe, love," she whispered. She went back and used their rings to join Dolan, rather than risk disapparating from a moving ship. When she was gone, Tel'gat moved to take her place. "The second ha'tak is three miles northwest," she reported tersely.

Harry nodded and directed the bomber toward the indicated direction.

Tel'gat had learned when not to interrupt Harry's thoughts, and those thoughts were raging within him as he looked around at the devastation. As much as he wanted to deny it, he had to accept responsibility. He kept trying to summon rage, but instead all he felt was empty.

When they spotted the shadow of the second ha'tak, he went looking for the line of captives and found it soon enough. He looked for a safe spot to land and found a crater similar to what Hermione's people had used. And why not? The whole surface of the planet was covered in craters.

He brought the ship down and left the cockpit with Tel'gat a step behind. In the hold, almost five hundred rangers and infantry, almost all Mal Jaffa who owed their freedom to the Hebridan geneticists, stood packed tightly together.

"Here's our initial plan," he announced in a voice that carried to every ear. "There is a line of captives a few hundred meters away. We're going to break up into groups and let ourselves be captured. Once the ha'tak has lifted off, I will transport a group of twenty of you directly to the pel'tak to take the control. Once that is done, clear the rest of the ship by any means necessary. I'm going to stand by the door and place a magic on all your weapons that will make them invisible to the Jaffa. Do not leave the al'kesh until I've done this. After you leave, break into groups and make your way to the refugee line as best you can. Do not resist the Jaffa taking you prisoner—you have to survive."

With that, Harry walked to the ramp, opened it, and began charming their weapons unnoticeable as they left. Tel'gat was among the last group he charmed, before placing a charm on his own lightsabers. The two left side-by-side into the ash and snow.

The air was an odd combination of cold and hot. Some of the ash was still warm from the fires and devastation which caused it, while the snow felt cold. In some odd pockets, the snow melted into a weak drizzle that spotted the gradual coating of ash that made everything feel as if it were covered in cement. In just seconds, Harry had tied his kerchief around his nose and mouth. Tel'gat had done the same, as had those few rangers he could still see.

"Halt!" a harsh voice called in Goa'uld.

Harry and Tel'gat both froze, even though it was another pair of rangers the Jaffa had captured. More Jaffa emerged from the shadow, and Harry saw they were in full regalia, including the Serpent Headpieces that marked them as Jaffa of Ra. While bulky and cumbersome, the headpieces provided them more than sufficient protection against the snow and ash. Still more Jaffa emerged, mere silhouettes against the particulate matter until the glow from their staff weapons lit the golden features of their masks.

"On your knees, slaves!" one shouted at them.

Harry did not hesitate, nor did Tel'gat. Rough hands grabbed him from the back of his neck and shoved him into the ash while binders were placed on his wrists. A moment later another hand used his hair to yank him back up. He desperately blinked ash away from his eyes as the Jaffa forced him painfully to his feet.

He risked a glance and felt a note of relief Tel'gat was still at his side. They were pushed and shoved through the mounds of gray-white debris until they arrived in the center of what had once been a major highway. Two lines of people shuffled down the middle of the highway, all secured to a long, rattling chain.

As they approached the other captives, Harry saw a child stumble out of line. Her mother attempted to right her, but it was too late. With a casual swing of his staff, a nearby Jaffa blew the girl's leg off where the chains bound it and in the same motion brought the blunt melee side of the staff around and crushed the girl's head. It took only a second.

The woman—the girl's mother, obviously—cried out in horror and tried to leave the line, only for Jaffa standing on the other side of the line to blow her chest into mist. A second shot removed her leg from the chains, freeing the weight of the dead without disrupting the long chain that bound them all.

Beside him, Tel'gat gasped at the casual brutality. Harry gritted his teeth and said nothing. The Jaffa dragged he and Tel'gat to the very spaces the dead mother and child occupied.

Harry could have saved them. He knew he could easily have killed the two Jaffa before they could harm the child or her mother. But he also knew the other Jaffa would retaliate against all the slaves. No matter how fast he was, far more would die if he acted, including his own people. So he bowed his head and gritted his teeth against the rage that finally burned so hotly in his chest.

At a glance, he guessed that there were easily a hundred thousand people being loaded into the ha'tak like so much cattle. He knew the brutality the Jaffa just demonstrated was absolutely necessary to control so many—the Jaffa themselves were outnumbered at least ten-to-one. But with demonstrations like what they saw so common, none dared oppose them. The Hebridan people were well and truly defeated.

It took hours of walking, and several more terrible demonstrations, before all the slaves were gathered in a single massive hold within the Goa'uld mother ship. The people were crammed in like sardines with no room to sit, or even take care of personal hygiene. Worse yet was how silent everyone was—it wasn't just terror that kept people quiet, but a crushing sense of despair that robbed everyone of even the will to speak. The ash in the air made even breathing difficult.

The moment Harry and Tel'gat were shoved into the door, hands caught their arms and pulled them to the side, against the wall. He nodded to the ash-covered faces of his other volunteers, pleased to see they were positioning themselves so well. None spoke, not yet, but he knew they were as ready to fight as Harry himself was. They had to be patient, though. Loading a hundred thousand defeated, dejected slaves into a single space took a long time.

After two hours, the doors behind them closed. Overhead, water began shooting down at them at high velocity. It gradually washed the ash from the air, as well as from their faces. Harry doubted it was mercy—that much ash could kill, and there was no point in transporting dead bodies. The Goa'uld were undoubtedly using the slave labor as a means of payment, and dead slaves meant lost income.

Soaking wet but able to breath better, Harry could feel the floor under his feet rumble. _We're moving,_ he sent silently to Hermione through their bond.

 _We're still loading; we probably have an hour or more to go._

 _Be safe, love._

 _You too, Harry. Remember, immortal doesn't mean impervious._

With that, Harry looked down the line of his soldiers, all of them as crowded up against the wall as he was, until he saw Tel'gat. She nodded without him having to speak. A few of the crushed civilians stared wide-eyed, sensing perhaps that something was about to happen.

Harry began conjuring a rope from midair and snaked it down the line of his men. He continued until one of them called out softly, "Twenty!"

"Weapons ready, we go in hot!" Harry called back. He spoke English, what the Empire called Khebbish, and despite their close trade alliance few Hebridans understood the language.

The men and women, mainly Mal Jaffa like Tel'gat, gripped their charmed weapons in one hand and the rope in the other. " _Portus_ ," Harry said as he pushed magic into the portkey. He never heard the worried screams of the slaves in the hold who saw them disappear abruptly.

Harry and twenty of his best soldiers appeared with a loud pop in the middle of the Pel'tak. The magic of their materialization blasted two unfortunate Jaffa out of the way so strongly one broke his back against the golden throne of the attending Goa'uld, in the process sending that startled Goa'uld to the floor as well.

Fueled by a righteous anger resulting from witnessing the worst of Goa'uld and Jaffa cruelty, the soldiers and rangers of Kheb proved themselves more than equal to the Jaffa of the System Lords. Carbines stuttered out short, controlled bursts of armor-piercing rounds while Harry launched himself into a flurry of lightsabers and magic. Rage poured off him, at last with an outlet other than his own crushing sense of guilt. The Goa'uld, moving with the speed of his kind, summoned his personal shield, but Harry did not give him time to summon aid. With an angry roar, he unleashed a blast of kinetic energy that shot the Goa'uld against the back wall of the pel'tak so hard he dented the metal.

The personal shield flickered and died just in time for Harry's thrown, spinning lightsaber to take the monster's head before spinning back to his hand. Just like their ship-to-ship exercise, the violence was over in mere seconds.

"We saved the Prime, Akai'kheb," one of the rangers said.

"Good." Harry stepped to the Jaffa Prime, slapped a hand against his forehead, and ripped out all the information he needed. "Hmm," he muttered when stepped back from the brain dead Jaffa. "They've taken heavier casualties than they predicted. The ship actually has a minimal compliment of Jaffa—no more than a few hundred." Harry stepped back to the Goa'uld's throne and sat down, staring intently at the controls. "It can't be that easy."

"Akai'kheb?"

Harry looked up and recognized the soldiers as one of Tel'gat's original squad. "Am'dar, when was the last time something went easy for us? I mean truly, ridiculously easy?"

The ranger frowned in thought. "I can't think of any instances, Akai'kheb."

"So what do you think of a ha'tak explicitly refitted to transport slaves, with programming to spray sleeping gas everywhere outside of the pel'tak because there aren't enough Jaffa to control the salves if they escape?"

Am'dar's eyes widened to a near comical size while around him, other rangers and soldiers grinned. Harry slapped a hand on the throne's control to release the gas. "Men, get the ship under control. Keep us on the original course until we're clear of the system, then make best speed to Kalmah. Am'dar, you're in command. I'm going to go wake Tel'gat and the rest of our people, steal a few al'kesh, and do this all over again."

This time, Am'dar laughed aloud. "Yes, Akai'kheb!"

~~Stars Above~~

~~Stars Above~~

Andon Montrose, age twenty-seven, fought against the horrible ache in his legs and the pressure squeezing his chest, and tried not to think too hard about the past twenty hours. Instead, he and a few others tried their best to lift another child up and onto their shoulders. The kids were being crushed in the press of people, literally suffocating to death.

It was Montrose who shouted out to the other adults to lift the kids over their heads to let them lay out on the shoulders of the adults who were crushing them. It was even more of a burden on the adults like Andon, who still bore burns on his leg from a Jaffa staff weapon, but he could not in good conscience stand by while children died around him—not if there was anything he could do about it.

He'd had nothing to eat since the attack, and thirst was making his throat swell until speaking was difficult, but still he stood and held the small, trembling body on his shoulders with the other men and women around him. Just surviving was all they could do.

It was the screaming that alerted him to something happening. Everyone was so tired, sore and scared it didn't take much to set them off. But then the little girl on his shoulder jerked and cried, and he himself saw what had people so terrified.

A woman was walking on the air above them, ten feet over their heads, and only a few feet below the domed ceiling of the massive hold. She wore armor, like a character out of a fantasy move—a breastplate dulled by soot and ash, vambraces and shin guards. She was close enough that he could see blood and soot on her face, and her hair was pulled roughly back in a tight bun, but had several wild strands sticking out. And she was standing in the air, floating over their heads.

Suddenly Andon recognizedher. How could he not? Her face, or the face of her sister wife or their shared husband, was on the news feeds almost every week. He was staring at the Hermione, Vice Empress of Kalmah.

"Shut it!" he shouted. "Shut up!" Others caught his call, and like a wave of retardant over a stubborn blaze, eventually the screams and noise fell off.

"Thank you!" the Empress said. Somehow, her voice carried over the whole hold, as if she were speaking into a microphone. "The Empire of Kheb has taken control of this vessel. As we speak, this ship is flying toward Kalmah. I cannot begin to tell you the sorrow the Empire of Kheb feels for your lost world. Hebridan was our closest ally and friend. My husband and I personally led a relief force to aid as many of your people escaping as possible. And when we had done all we could in space, my husband, myself, and almost a thousand volunteers came to the surface to help you as much as we could. And it was these volunteers who have secured your freedom today."

Andon could no more help his tears than any of the others around him. When the loudest of the cathartic release quieted, the Empress continued.

"Our position is not completely safe. We control the ship, but in less than six hours several hundred Jaffa are going to wake up. You out number them two thousand to one, but they have killed enough already. Before we begin to release everyone, I'm going to ask that anyone with military or law enforcement experience make your way as best you can to the front to secure the ship. Everyone else, please remain where you are for now, and do your best to help those who have to move to do so. I promise you'll have a chance to spread out within the hour. A second set of doors will open behind you, so those of you with military or police experience can go that way as well."

"I think she means us, mate," an older man said from behind and to Andon's left. He looked down at his torn, tattered police uniform and nodded. "Suppose she does. You police?"

"Defense force, retired last year. Let's go."

It took some time—the sheer density of people made moving difficult. But it turned out that despite heavy losses in the fighting, there were quite a few surviving police and soldiers. In fact, their numbers were sufficient that their leaving created enough of a vacuum in the hold for people to set the children down without them getting crushed once they made their way out.

Andon himself felt surprised—he was expecting a few dozen, but the numbers were so large they filled the hall for as far as he could see, before and behind. The men and women of Hebridan's military and law enforcement crowded around the beautiful, impossibly young-looking Empress.

"Thank you so much," she told them all. "Forgive me if I misspeak, I am tired as well. Right now, I need you to secure the ship. Remove the weapons from any Jaffa you find and…" She blinked. "I was going to say keep them prisoner, but after witnessing what they did, I'm not inclined to be merciful. We need to ensure they are not a threat to this ship, whatever it takes."

Andon himself never believed he could be capable of cold-blooded murder until he saw a Jaffa kill his family. "With respect, ma'am, while they live, they're a threat."

She met his gaze squarely. "Then I leave it to your best judgment." She looked around her with a firm nod. "You should know that my husband, the Emperor, has secured another ha'tak similar to this—it was he who told me about the sleeping gas we used to knock out the Jaffa once I and my people took the pel'tak. He's had volunteers like yourself secure the ship, and then he took more volunteers like yourselves and returned to Hebridan to do the same thing again. I know you're tired, some of you wounded. But the people of Kalmah are willing to do whatever we can to save as many of your people as we can. I have hundreds of soldiers who volunteered to let themselves be captured, and I'm sorry to say we did suffer losses taking control of the pel'tak. I want to send my people home, and in their stead I would like some of you to volunteer to accompany me back to help evacuate more civilians. We will use the ship's al'kesh bombers and transports to do so."

Andon didn't even have to think about it. "I'll go."

Behind him, more and more men and women volunteered. The Empress didn't seem surprised. "I knew you would. Never before has the spirit of Hebridan been so strong as now. Choose six hundred from among your number to come with us—use the Jaffa weapons. The rest of you, please secure the ship and work with the Kalmah officers on the pel'tak to see to the needs of your people. As soon as the ship is secure and the Jaffa dealt with, we'll need to let people spread out."

With orders given, Hermione turned and started walking toward the glider bay. Andon found himself walking beside the older man he'd met in the hold. He offered his hand. "Andon Montrose, Captain, Aboine District Police."

The older man took the hand. "Commander Isral Jaxton, Hebridan Defense Force, retired."

"You retired, Isral?" the Lady Hermione asked. Being only a step ahead, she must have heard. "Surely you're not that old."

"Mandatory retirement at age 50 barring promotion to sector captain. I made commander, but had to retire. I was wondering if you remembered me."

Hermione turned and smiled sadly at him. "It's a shame Tel'gat is with Harry. Do you remember her?"

"The sick little Jaffa girl?"

"She's Mal Jaffa because of Hebridan's aid, and the Colonel in command of our Ranger division. She helped Harry take his ha'tak."

"You've met?" Montrose asked, impressed.

"Commander Jaxton was actually among the first Hebridans we ever met," Hermione said. "He searched our al'kesh as we were bringing some Jaffa in for genetic treatment. But surely that was only a few years ago."

"Twelve years, m'lady," Jaxton said. "I was thirty nine at the time. And I have to say, you haven't aged a day."

Montrose had to admit, this close, the seeming youth of the Vice Empress was disconcerting. She looked nineteen, like his wife the first time he saw her in the bar outside of the Training Academy. But she spoke of meeting a fifty-year-old when he was still in his thirties, and sounded years older than her face looked. In fact, her whole bearing was of someone far more mature than her appearance.

Perhaps she was eternal, like many of the less reputable news outlets hinted at.

"So what is our plan, Empress?" Jaxton asked.

"We go back in cloaked al'kesh to see if we have opportunity to steal any more ha'taks," she said. "We seize the opportunities presented to us, and we make the Goa'uld bleed for what they've done to your world."

Widowed and made childless by the Goa'uld, Andon heard the words and nodded to himself more to anyone around him. He had nothing left _but_ vengeance.


	33. Bitter Cold

A/N: Chap 32 review responses are in my forums like normal.

Just a word on this and upcoming chapters. The issue with true empire is that it isn't organic or likely that the leaders of the Empire would personally be a a part of everything happening. While I could concentrate solely on the day to day affairs of the Tripartite as the empire grows, I'm not a huge fan of House of Cards or CSPAN, which is what I'd be writing. So going forward you're going to see alternate POVs that expand the empire while introducing characters that will have their own importance going forward. While such chapters may not contain earth-shattering action or revelations, they were the approach I took to show how the Empire grows. Hopefully it works. If not, well, at least you didn't pay anything for it.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Three: Bitter Cold**

The Goa'uld were gone; Hebridan lay bleeding in the icy aftermath.

Andon Montrose, former police captain of the Aboine district of Hebridan, adjusted his breathing mask and goggles with his left hand as he stomped through the thick coating of dirty, poisonous snow while holding a little girl clinging desperately to his side with his right arm. Behind him, struggling to keep hold of the rope tied around his waist, two dozen civilians staggered behind.

The path he walked had been clear just hours before, but now had the terrible, ash-strewn snow piled up almost to his knees. The poor girl he carried, a child no more than six, couldn't even walk through it.

His legs ached; his back hurt; his lungs burned as if he'd breathed in fire. He kept going anyway. Finally, through the perpetual gloom that had marked the death of his world, Andon could see distant lights.

"We're almost there!" he cried to those behind him, though he knew his mask obscured the words. He hoped the tone would be enough to give them hope—his ancestors knew he was as tired as they were. Even with the breathing mask, Andon found it difficult to breathe. Still, he plowed on.

After another five minutes of hard walking they reached the emergency coordination center—a large tent with a long, reinforced tube in front and back. Further back, a converted Hebridan bus idled softly on its internalized electric system. Anything requiring combustion was unusable in the ash and snow.

They burst through the heavy flaps and into the entry way. Almost immediately a spray of hot water shot onto them, causing the girl in his arms to scream in fright.

"It's okay!" he assured her. "It's just to settle and wash away the ash. It's okay!"

With the water spraying them, he got his first true look at who he carried without the ash completely obscuring her features. The girl was a hybrid, golden eyes and light gold hair sprouting from a face marked by the ridges common to Serrikan-human hybrids. He knew that she was one of a very small number to survive.

Ahead, in full hazmat suits, stood two Hebridan volunteers—former police or military like Andon himself—who began helping the exhausted, terrified and sickened refugees into two processing lines. Because of the sheer amount of hazardous materials in the snow, everyone had to be thoroughly disinfected and treated for a whole host of respiratory ailments. Clothes and personal belongings were destroyed out of necessity and basic medical triaging was used to determine who could drive to the very long evacuation cue near the recently restored Stargate, and who would need aerial pick-up for emergency evacuation.

The little hybrid girl refused to let go, however, when the hazmat people came for her. She didn't utter a word, but instead squealed and buried her face in the folds of his dingy, worn coat.

Andon's own exhaustion made itself felt in the trembling of his knees and arms. He knelt down in the middle of the triage area as men and women were each led through their own decontamination areas, and tried weakly to pull the little girl off.

"Sweetie, no one will hurt you here, I promise," he said. "But we need to take a bath—me too. We need to get all this icky ash off or it will make us sick."

Something caught in his throat. Andon spun away from the little girl and coughed until the world narrowed down to a distant spot of light. When the worst fit passed, he heard the girl screaming and saw a pool of blood on the floor in front of him.

"Mommy! Daddy!" the girl screamed as she pulled desperately at his coat, trying to lift him up from where he'd fallen.

A woman arrived in a Khebbish uniform—mocha skin with strong features and intelligent brown eyes. Without a word she swept the terrified, kicking girl off her feet and away from Andon. She handed the girl off to one of the volunteer women. "Run her through and then prep her for emergency evac."

"Yes, Colonel," the tech said.

The colonel returned her attention back to Andon. "Captain Montrose, I'm fairly certain you were told two expeditions were the limit. This was your fifth."

He tried to answer, but his breath caught and another coughing fit overtook him. When his field of vision expanded again, he found himself shivering under a spray of disinfectant soap between the arms of two male technicians who looked as if they'd gone through the process several times that day, judging from their wrinkled skin and soaking hair.

He emerged on the other side naked and cold, only to be quickly wrapped in a heavy, blessedly warmed blanket. A newly printed red jump suit awaited him, as if he were a refugee and not a rescue tech. He tried to step forward out of the hands of the two techs only to collapse.

"Hold up, Captain," one of the two men said. "You're not going anywhere on your own. You've got ash lung, bad."

Andon stared up at the tech flatly. "What was your first clue?"

The man snorted. "Right. Let's get you dressed."

It bothered him that he needed the help to pull on the plain, uncomfortable one-piece. He wanted to go back out, but he knew he wouldn't get far enough to make a difference. Ordinarily, something like ash lung was easily treatable. Following the holocaust, it was killing tens of thousands every day, faster than rescue crews could find them, much less treat them.

When he was dressed, the two techs forced him onto a narrow gurney and wheeled him across the bumpy tent surface not to the large loading area of the surface transport, but to a smaller tent that led directly to the ramp of a waiting air transport. "Just put me on the damned bus," he muttered.

"Sorry, cap'n, orders are orders," one of the techs said. He didn't sound very sorry.

The ship, once they got up the ramp, looked quite a bit larger inside than he expected at first. Even so, every inch of the hold inside was covered with the sick, injured or dying. The techs rolled him into a corner and secured his gurney before turning to leave. Alone, Aldon struggled to sit up. "Why the hell am I so weak all the sudden?" he muttered. "I was fine an hour ago."

"Ash lung moves fast," a feminine voice said.

He turned and saw the dark-skinned woman in the Khebbish uniform behind his gurney. The little hybrid girl now clung to her hip instead of Andon's, and wore the same red printed jumpsuit he did, albeit much smaller. Her hair lay flat from her recent cleaning. "So how's our girl?" he said. It came out as a wheeze.

"Better than you," the woman said. "You were one of the volunteers who returned from a stolen ha'tak, right?"

Blinking, Andon could only stare. "How the hell would you know that?"

"I'm Colonel Tel'gat—I'm the commander of the Rangers division. I was tasked with taking a census of who stayed after the Goa'uld abandoned the planet for special commendation."

With a moan, Andon fell back against the gurney. "Commendations for what? We didn't accomplish anything."

He felt a small body somehow snuggle against him despite the narrow gurney. Frowning, he stared down at the golden hair of the hybrid girl. He realized with a start he didn't even know her name.

"Zarissa," Tel'gat said, as if reading his mind. In a singularly un-military movement, she gently rubbed the girl's back. "She managed to run away from the Jaffa who came after her family for being a mixed marriage. She saw it all."

There was no answer to that. Andon saw it all too, when his family died. He was surprised when Tel'gat took his hand. "I know what it's like to sacrifice for those you love," she said gently. "I am Mal Jaffa—many people sacrificed their lives so I could live as a young girl. Thinking back, though, sometimes I wonder if it had been better if they had not sacrificed so much. Your people need you, Andon Montrose. Zarissa needs you—she has no one else."

"Neither do I," he muttered.

Tel'gat smiled. "Exactly."

Another couching fit took him, and again the world narrowed down into darkness.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Andon woke to the sound of chirping—a regular, organic sound he'd never heard before. "What is that sound?" he muttered.

"Birds," a familiar voice said.

Blinking back gummy sleep from his eyes, he found himself staring at the wooden beams of a ceiling. The wood confused him—perhaps it was a plasticene molding? But no, he could see not just grains, but imperfections that marked real wood. Lumber was such an extravagance on Hebridan he couldn't imagine why… He blinked and turned his head toward a wide glass door. He obviously was in an apartment of some kind. However, the city he looked over seemed somehow unrealistically…short. There were a few high rises and a large domed structure in the distance, but what caught his attention were the distant mountains carpeted in a rich, dark green mass of trees.

"Where am I?"

"Welcome to Kalmah, Captain."

With surprising effort, he turned his head and found himself staring at the colonel from the transport. He fought to remember her name…Nugat?

"Tel'gat," she said, again seeming to read his mind.

"How do you know what I was going to say?"

"I've worked side by side with the Tripartite since I was a teenager," she said with a smirk. "You learn a few tricks. People think they read minds all the time, but Lady Luna confessed that more often than not they just read body language."

Waking up, he noticed that Tel'gat was no longer in her uniform, but rather wore a simple yellow cotton dress cinched at the waste by a blue sash. The color went well with the dark tint of her skin. She was not what Andon would normally consider to be an attractive woman—her features were too strong. In fact, her whole body looked as if she were stronger than the norm. The sleeveless dress exposed unusually muscular arms for a woman, including a tattoo of what looked like a flaming bird. She frowned a moment before looking down at the tattoo. "Ah, that's right, Hebridan women don't get tattoos often, do they?"

"What is it?"

"A Ranger tradition. You weren't at Erid when the Akai'kheb crushed the Temple of Anshur, but if you were you'd understand."

With effort, Andon pushed himself into a sitting position. The room he was in looked relatively plain—a bed, a heavy wooden chest that on Hebridan would have cost the equivalent of three years' salary, and the chair Tel'gat sat on.

"Where am I?"

"My apartment in Byrsa, the capital city of Kalmah," she explained.

At the sound of a knock at his door, Tel'gat said over her shoulder, "He's awake, Zarissa."

The little hybrid girl stepped into the room, golden eyes wide. She clung to a small stuffed animal of a kind he'd never seen before. Her dress looked plain and white, but he could see she was clean, groomed, and already had more flesh about her cheeks that when he found her hiding in the ash.

Without a word, she jumped up onto the bed and snuggled into him.

"I don't understand it myself," Tel'gat said with a shrug, and something of a smile. "The Hebridan counselor assured us it was normal."

"Serrikin children imprint," Andon said. He was pleased that he could speak without coughing, though he still felt dizzy and short of breath. "The trait runs true in hybrids until they reach puberty, through second and third generations. There aren't any fourth generation hybrids yet. We learn about it in Academy for any abuse cases we may come across. The imprinting can shift if necessary."

"Interesting."

"Tel'gat, why am I here?"

She shrugged. "The Empire of Kheb had less than half a billion people among all three of our worlds. So far, we've managed to rescue over ninety million from Hebridan. Unfortunately the number is tapering off, but the Empire is running short of housing and emergency supplies. We've had food shortages for the first time in our history. The Tripartite made a personal plea to the people of Kalmah to accept refugees into their homes, and we've done that. Almost every family on the planet is hosting at least one Hebridan refugee. I'm hosting two."

"Why, though? It feels like you're making it personal."

She leaned forward and studied him intently. "You went out on five rescue runs knowing damn well it would kill you. Why?"

Andon shrugged, not wanting to give voice to the fact he had no reason left not to.

Somehow, Tel'gat sensed that. Rather than call him on it, she said, "Eleven years ago, I was Jaffa entering the Age of Prata. It is the age when the Jaffa immune system fails in anticipation of being implanted with a Goa'uld larva. Only half of the Jaffa are chosen. But I was a girl born on the world of Moloc the Defiler, who ordered all girl Jaffa killed. Ishta, his former high priestess, saved me and the others. When Moloc went after us, Ishta sought help from the Tripartite. The people of Byrsa came with the Akai'kheb and the Lady Hermione and saved my sisters and me from Moloc. And a few months later, they brought me to Hebridan, and your people saved me from the Goa'uld manipulations of my body. I am Mal Jaffa because your people saved me. Now, you're people need me. How can I do any less?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Andon had never been off Hebridan—few had. When he'd recovered enough to leave the apartment, Tel'gat led he and Zarissa out to a lake that ran through the center of the city. Lake Byrsa was shaped like a tear drop, an artificial body resulting from water management dams. The banks of the lake were exquisitely landscaped with a thick, blue-green carpet grass that ran down to the pebbles and sand that formed beaches were many people bathed.

He was startled by the naked children splashing and laughing in the water. Zarissa, clutching his hand with her left while holding her stuffed animal Moo in her right, stared at the naked children with wide eyes.

"Byrsa culture is less…constrained regarding the body than that of the Jaffa when it comes to the young," Tel'gat explained. "The few immigrants from Erid sometimes have a hard time adjusting as well."

Zarissa laughed as a few extremely large birds floated down to the grass and started waddling about the blankets and people stealing food to the consternation of the swimmers. The birds didn't care.

"It's so different," Andon said. "I can see why so many immigrated before. Everything just seems so…open."

Tel'gat was about to speak when she started and stared at someone approaching from the beach. Andon turned as well and fought hard not to ogle. The woman walking toward them was taller than the human norm and wore a form-fitting, one-piece bathing suit that accentuated a body that many men would find intimidating for its perfection. The woman's blonde hair was wrapped in a bun. As she walked, she pulled on a swimming robe, relieving Andon of the distracting sight.

He then chastised himself. _You're not some twelve-year-old. You know better than to ogle women._

"Tel'gat," the woman said with a regal nod.

"Ishta," the girl said. To Andon's surprise, Tel'gat bowed from the waist. "This is Captain Andon Montrose of Hebridan, and the girl Zarissa, one of the many hundred he personally rescued. I've taken him and the girl into my home as the Ladies asked."

Andon got the impression that Ishta did not like Zarissa at all. She didn't frown, but made a point of not looking. Instead, she turned to study Montrose himself. "Military?"

"Police, ma'am."

"I see. I am Ishta, former High Priestess of Moloc and current Chief of Staff for the Tripartite Throne. I am mate to General Teal'c."

 _Oh._ Ishta, like Teal'c, was a true Jaffa. Which meant she was likely a lot older than she looked. "An honor to meet you, Madam."

"Likewise." She spoke brusquely with odd formality. "Lady Hermione told me about you, Captain. You displayed not just bravery, but also skill and intelligence in aiding the Lady as she took a second slave ship. Your actions helped save nearly a hundred thousand of your people from slavery or death in that instance alone, not to mention those you led to safety on your home world. You are to be commended."

He didn't think he'd done that much, honestly. When he followed Hermione with Commander Jaxton and the rest of the volunteers back to Hebridan, they'd done exactly what Hermione and the Emperor did the first time—they allowed themselves to be captured and led back into another ha'tak. The battle to take the second ship, however, was much harder since there were more Jaffa, and the sleeping gas trick did not work. While not trained for open combat, Andon knew how to use firearms and cover and had been in firefights before. He simply did his part.

"Well, thank you, but I was part of a sizable force," he said. "Honestly, the Empress did most of the heavy lifting. She took the pel'tak by herself, somehow."

"The Tripartite are great warriors, that is true," Ishta said. Andon felt like he was interviewing for a job. "Some might even call them gods."

Feeling the same discomfort that most Hebridans felt when those of Kheb delved into religious matters, he shrugged. "I leave theology for those better suited to it, Madam."

"As it should be." She turned to Tel'gat. "You are sure?"

Andon did not understand _that_ exchange at all. Tel'gat nodded. "I am, Ishta."

"Very well." She turned her dark eyes back to Andon. "It was an honor to meet you, Andon Montrose. I think you will find a place here. Now, if you will excuse me, I can hear my children." She turned and walked away.

"Why do I feel like I just went through a peer review?"

Tel'gat shrugged, though he noticed the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Everyone feels like that around Ishta. Even if she were not powerful in the government, people would respect her. Even Bra'tak, the Commanding General of the Army, pays heed to her. So, Zarissa, would you like a few sweet meats?"

The little girl stared at Tel'gat before nodding energetically. She didn't smile yet, and rarely spoke, but she was beginning to emote more freely. From his few days on the planet, Andon knew the favorite treat of the Byrsa was a frozen, sweetened cream. But Serrikin and all hybrids were lactose intolerant. Fortunately, the Erid immigrants brought with them a sweetened jerked meat that quickly became a best-selling item on Hebridan among the Serrikin, and many others for that matter.

Tel'gat led the way, and this time Zarissa pulled Andon's arm to make him follow after faster, obviously intent to get her treat.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"They offered me the position," Andon said as he and Tel'gat took dinner on her balcony overlooking the city. It was a beautiful day—with fall fast approaching the leaves on the trees in the distance were turning a deep crimson color, washing the mountains in a sea of red that, rather than look like blood, made it look like living fire.

Tel'gat turned from her distant stare over the mountain and smiled, though it seemed strained to him. After three months of living in close proximity, he'd learned to read some of her body language, since she was as taciturn as anyone he'd ever met. "They would have been foolish not to," she said, still facing away. "The Bureau patterned much of their training on your own academy. You'll make an excellent captain here."

"You know that means an income," he said. Dinner was a simple affair—a tago bean salad with a large sheet of lightly salted flat bread and beer. The price of meat was still exponentially high because of ongoing food shortages, so he was not going to complain. He'd read about food riots in the Hebridan Ghettos, as the local news referred to many of the Hebridan settlement colonies. Not getting meat seemed a minor thing when he knew some his people were not getting enough at all.

Zarissa had fallen asleep in the living room to the accompaniment of a popular Hebridan children's show the local entertainment networks had been airing of late.

"Yes," Tel'gat said, forcing humor. "I'm jealous, you're going to make almost as much as I am, and I am a full colonel."

He chuckled—he could tell she didn't mean it. He'd noticed over the past few months of meeting her fellow Mal Jaffa that Jaffa culture cared little for money beyond what necessities it could purchase. They were instead the most loyal, patriotic bunch he'd ever encountered. They viewed the 'Akai'kheb' as their personal god with a devotion Andon had never encountered before.

"And that means getting a place of my own," he continued with the thought. "I'm on the waiting list for one of the new apartments going up in the southeastern quadrant. It'll be expensive, but I'll have a second room for Zarissa."

There was no question the girl would come with him. The counselors warned against breaking an imprint twice, and Andon had become attached to her despite everything. She would be starting school for the first time in the spring and was already taking a special needs course to learn Khebbish.

In response, Tel'gat began pulling at her com-watch, a sign of nervousness he'd never seen. Still, he plowed on. "So, I was thinking Zarissa and I could take you out to dinner some time. A way of saying thank you for all you've done for us. I know…"

He stopped when Tel'gat stood and walked to the edge of the balcony to lean on a rail away from him. "What?" he asked, confused.

"I am foolish," she answered without looking at him.

"I don't think many would call you that."

"Ishta did. She called me a fool, and even called the Lady Luna a fool for encouraging me. But I did not care, I thought…I thought surely a brave man in my home would at least notice. You had proven yourself worthy. And you did so well with Zarissa. I even bared my arms with my clothing. But you did not notice, not even once."

Confused and a bit alarmed at what for Tel'gat was an astonishingly unusual display of emotion, Andon stood and took a step forward. "I'm really confused, Tel'gat. What was I supposed to notice?"

She spun about so angry he stepped back. "That I am a woman, you fool! I was all but throwing myself at you, to my shame! And you never even noticed!"

It took a moment to click. "Er, throwing yourself?"

"I bared my arms!" She motioned to her well-muscled arms, which were indeed bare save for her flaming bird tattoo. "I gave you my bed! I prepared meals for you! What else was I supposed to do? I know I am not soft like your Hebridan women. I know I am not beautiful like your Hebridan women. Is that why you do not look at me? Is that why you are repulsed?"

It felt as if he'd been blind-sided. "Tel'gat, I…" He turned and sat back down, stumped. "My wife died just three months ago. My son died. I watched Jaffa murder them, and there wasn't a thing I could do. Did you see me look at any other women?"

For the first time, he saw a break in her anger. It came in the form of a confused frown. "I…I did not. But…but I have seen the picture of your wife that you keep. She was…she was a very beautiful woman. Like the Lady Hermione."

"Canda was beautiful," Andon said without hesitation. He was surprised he could even say her name without welling up in tears. "She was sweet—when she wanted to be. She could also make your life miserable when she didn't get her way. And I loved her, so much sometimes it hurt. And the Jaffa just took her away, and the son she gave me. I didn't notice any women around me because all I could think of was the one I lost. Or at least, that's what the grief counselors said."

Tel'gat bowed her head. "Then I am even more foolish than I thought." She turned away again and stared out over the city. "Luna said I would have to be patient, but that it would be a good pairing."

 _Luna_ again. It was always Luna this, Hermione that, or 'so says the Akai'kheb.'. "So, Luna told you to go after me, and you did? Was that before or after you took me in?"

She turned back to him, obviously hearing the anger in his tone. "I admired what you did on Hebridan, and after you were here, I asked the Lady to do a foretelling on us. She said we would make a good pair, but that I would have to be patient. She did not tell me to do anything! None of the Tripartite have ever told us how to live our lives, other than not to mate with a fellow Mal Jaffa. It would increase the risk of reversion."

"But…Tel'gat, you said you were throwing yourself at me. Women go sleeveless all the time, and I cooked some for you as well. We were in the same home, it just made sense. You never once gave me any hints you were interested. I…"

Huffing, Tel'gat returned to her seat. "I am Mal Jaffa. Among the Jaffa, mates were appointed by the High Priestess or our master. I am not…I do not understand courting. But surely I…you must have…" She growled in frustration. "As I said, I am a fool. I am too ugly for you, I should have known…"

"You're not ugly." Andon stated it as undeniable fact. "You're strong. No, you're not a model or an actress, but your features are strong and distinctive. You're a colonel, a warrior. You're not supposed to be a model."

She looked away, but at least remained seated. "I am twenty-five years old. I am Mal Jaffa, I cannot afford to wait until I am fifty or sixty to have a family like Ishta did. I do not wish to…to…to be alone any longer. But because of my role I do not meet suitable companions often. When I saw you giving your life to save others, I thought you worthy. I hoped you would find me worthy, but I do not understand your courting rituals. I was foolish. I wanted you to stay with me."

"Okay."

It took a moment, but when it sank in she spun back to face him, eyes wide. "What?"

"I loved my wife, Tel'gat, but I'm only twenty-six. I survived, somehow. I have to keep living. For Zarissa, if nothing else. And you're so strong—right now, I need strength. I can't say I'm a hundred percent sure, but I'm willing to give it a try, if you're willing to continue to be patient."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Andon felt a sense of shock when the Vice Empress Luna stepped into the reception hall half an hour after his wedding nine months after Hebridan's fall. Beside him, his bride stiffened slightly. The ceremony had been an odd hybrid—they each married in their uniforms. His was the dark dress blues of the Imperial Bureau of Justice, while she wore the dark gray dress uniform of the Imperial Defense Forces Ranger. He noticed her chest bristled with commendations and awards.

Somehow, Tel'gat just looked _right_ in the uniform. She would never be a model, he knew that. She would never look right in a dress. But once he accepted her, he found that she was beautiful in her own way. It took six more months through a cold winter after that revealing conversation on her balcony, but finally he accepted that she was not just the best he could hope for, but that she was in fact exactly what he needed.

Many of his fellow police officers attended the function. He was popular among his men, and the fact that a Hebridan refugee made captain went a long way toward controlling some of the resentment among the refugee community. Friction was inevitable following the trauma of the attack and food shortages, but he liked to think things were getting better.

After the ceremony, they held a sizable reception filled with rangers and Imperial police officers. "I am almost sorry no criminals would be willing to try robbing us," Tel'gat sat after they started on the cake. "It would be quite amusing."

Andon laughed before taking her on a wild Brysa-style dance. He then danced with Zarissa, who laughed and had fun. She had a family now—he and Tel'gat formally adopted the little girl.

But the surprise came when Luna showed up. Given that the rangers filling the hall served as her personal guard, he supposed it shouldn't have been a surprise that she came unescorted. She wore a beautifully woven blue dress that seemed to cast a cerulean tint to her white-blonde hair.

Every ranger in the room stopped dancing and bowed at the neck. The civilian police nodded a little less formally. Luna smile at them all and floated across the floor until she reached Tel'gat. Without hesitation, the Vice Empress pulled the taller colonel down into a warm hug. "I told you to be patient," she said with a smile.

"Yes, Lady," Tel'gat said, not even bothering to hide her happy smile.

Luna turned her silver-blue eyes to Andon. "Captain," she said. "May I have this dance?"

"Uh, sure, majesty."

"In this instance Luna is fine, Captain," she said. "It is, after all, your wedding."

The dance that followed was slow and stately rather than the frenetic Byrsa dances. It was a Hebridan dance he recognized from his first wedding years ago. "So, did you see all this?" he asked with forced casualness.

"Yes, actually," Luna admitted. Her footwork was perfect, he noted. "Tel'gat could never have bonded with anyone she did not admire, and Hermione spoke very highly of you."

"Do you meddle with your subjects often?"

Her smile sobered. "Captain, Tel'gat is not our subject. She is our friend, and Hermione and I both love her very much." She flowed through a spin before resuming their measured steps.

"My family frightens you," she finally said.

"I wouldn't…well, perhaps," he admitted. He remembered how the Lady Hermione stood on air to address them in the stolen ha'tak nine months before.

"That's understandable, Captain," Luna said. "We are frightening. We can kill with a thought; we can bring life and death. My husband could destroy worlds without need of an army. We are tasked with defending this galaxy against an enemy that even the gods fear, and to do this we were made powerful. It is fine to fear that power. But do not let that fear color your perception of your wife. Now that she is with child, she will no longer be a front line commander, but she will continue to serve a valuable role not just in our defense forces, but to my family personally. And your children will as well—perhaps in ways you cannot even imagine. Just understand that she is not, nor will she ever be, just a subject. And now that you are her husband, neither will you."

The dance ended. Tel'gat joined them, watching Andon closely as she took his hand. Andon looked from her to the Vice Empress. "I understand, Lady Luna," he finally said.

"Good. Be kind to each other. May the Force and the blessings of Kheb be with you."

He bowed as she left before turning to smile back at his wife. Until, that is, the Lady Luna's words sank in. "With child?"


	34. English as a Second Language

A/N: Chap 33 review responses are in my forums like normal. Another couple of world-building chapters ahead. This one is a fun little sub-plot, at least I thought so. Remember how I said Harry would never step foot on Earth again? Never said no one else would.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Six: English as a Second Language**

"You're name?"

"Gerry Lane. With a 'G'."

The thin, older woman with short graying smiled up at him after peering intently at his driver's license and VISA. The sticker with the pink triangle trim on her shirt blurted out in thick, bold marker _Hi, my name is Catherine!_ It even included the exclamation point.

"Ah, got it." She wrote his name on a sticker badge with a permanent marker and then in a ledger with a Bic pen before handing him the sticker. "It's nice to meet you in person, Gerry. It was a pleasure speaking to you during the phone interviews. Help yourself to drinks or snacks, we'll begin in just a few moments."

"Great, thank you."

Gerry slipped his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans and tried not to think about the other, less innocent things he carried, and made his way into the conference room. He carried a backpack with his toiletries, two changes of clothes and his dad's Purple Heart, since the old man had thrown it at him like a missile last time they talked.

The orientation took place in a large, mostly empty conference room in a rundown hotel on the outskirts of Stillwater, a few miles away from Oklahoma State University. He'd found the fliers posted across campus at the end of term, and having a definite need for work since his degree in Sociology didn't seem to hold much promise, and the advertisement spoke about extensive, long term travel, he figured why not?

The phone interviews were a little odd, though. He'd heard three distinct female voices and the connection sounded as if it were made long distance. Two sounded British.

"Do you have any immediate family?"

"Just my dad."

"Would you say you're on good terms?"

"Not really."

"Any girlfriends?"

That was definitely one of the two younger sounding voices. "Why, you interested?"

Another of the women laughed, Gerry remembered. The first speaker actually sounded a little flustered. So the interviews went, all three of them. Finally, they called him back and offered him a berth on their next recruiting flight in August. They provided him the flight time and where to go and what to pack, and it seemed perfect.

He was going to fly to an exotic country on the other side of the world, live for five years and teach English, and get paid fifty thousand a year, which was more than six times what he made as a Teaching Assistant at OSU.

That's when everything turned weird.

Gerry spent the summer working the college beat for the NewsPress. He had no degree in journalism, but his work with the Collegian on campus earned him a part time spot to fill in for old Dommy Pearson, whose smoking and drinking laid him in a box with a heart attack at 52.

While making his way onto campus to do a human interest piece on a retiring professor he knew, Gerry noticed a baby blue Ford Fairlane pull up to the curb a block down from where he parked his Pinto. He only noticed because the windows were heavily tinted and no one got out.

As the days went by, he noticed more of the Fairlanes around the town—some tan colored, others a darker blue. All had heavily tinted windows and he never clearly saw who was inside. Whenever he was on the phone at work or home (which was mainly to call Dave or the boys to go out for a beer when he was bored and maybe hit on the lower classmen taking summer courses), he sometimes heard a strange clicking sound after picking up.

A paranoid man might think he was being followed. Gerry, being both intelligent and pragmatic, knew it for a fact. Of course, in addition to his pragmatism and intelligence, Gerry had a wickedly overactive imagination. Two of the voices he spoke to during his interviews sounded British. He remembered reading about the IRA mortar bombing on a police station in Newry and wondered if they were recruiting oversees. He was Irish on his dad's side—Lane being the Anglicized form of Luain. But he was a third generation American—it seemed odd they'd want him.

His mind turned to more exotic possibilities. Maybe he was going to be abducted and held hostage, like Terry Anderson. But that didn't make sense at all, really. Gerry was a smart man and he liked to think he had a promising future ahead of him. But at the moment all he had to his name were clothes, his old Pinto, and a guitar he only played once in a while.

He knew it had to have something to do with his upcoming travel, but without more information he just couldn't imagine why anyone would care about him teaching overseas. He had his VISA, all his shots and no criminal record since the JP threw out all those under age speeding citations and the two beer runs with community service.

It all came to a head two days before he was supposed meet with the recruiters for an orientation session before bussing to the airport where they would fly to Los Angeles, and from there across the Pacific. He sat in a McDonalds slurping a shake and absently eating fries while organizing his notes for a story about the delegation from Kameoka, Japan, that visited the city in anticipation of Stillwater and it becoming sister cities.

He felt the disturbance first—a movement of the table that made his pen scratch out one of the names of the delegation. He looked up in irritation but then carefully blanked his face.

The man sitting across from him had a broad, red face—the kind of face that reminded Gerry of his dad after a few beers. He looked like he was in his mid to late forties and relatively fit for the age. His close-cropped hair wasn't that unusual in small town Oklahoma, but something about the man's bearing reminded Gerry of his dad—career military.

"Mr. Lane," the man said the moment he caught Gerry's eyes. He placed a business card on the table. "Walt Schoulter, with CBS news. I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time."

Caught off guard by the man's sudden appearance, Gerry carefully gathered his notes back into his folio. "Evidently so. What can I do for you, Mr. Schoulter?"

"I'm a producer with _Sixty Minutes_ ," Schoulter said. "And I've been working on and off, almost for the past seventeen years, on a human trafficking story. I think I'm getting close, and that's why I came across your name."

Gerry raised a brow. "Human trafficking? In Stillwater?"

"It's not the place that matters, Mr. Lane. Can I show you something?" He removed a picture from his breast pocket of an attractive younger couple with a newborn baby. The picture looked old.

"My sister Claire and her husband," he said. "They were professors in New York when they disappeared in '68. The day I took this photo was the last I saw of them."

Gerry frowned, trying to recall what was significant about New York in 1968. Then he remembered—the Columbia Riots and the Superman hoax. The whole world had been enthralled by the grainy black-and-white pictures of the man flying through the air like superman, carrying an injured student to a nearby hospital. Later evidence and testimony proved it was all an elaborate hoax, but a lot of conspiracy theorists believed it had to do with the secret military contracts Columbia had at the time.

"I searched for them, Mr. Lane, all over," Schoulter continued. "All I knew was that they were going overseas to teach English, and nothing else. I searched and searched, but never turned up anything. Then, two years ago, it started happened again."

He removed not just one picture, but a whole stack of them, which he spread out over the table like a deck of cards. "They all are young, educated native English speakers. Australia, UK, New Zealand, US and Canada. They're recruited to teach English overseas through phone interviews, but they're never told where, and as soon as they go to their 'orientation', they're never heard from again. They never see who they're working with, and no one ever knows where they go."

He quickly pulled the pictures back up. "Look, I know some people who've been tracking this, that's how I got your name. They tracked the phone numbers, see? They want to catch whoever's been stealing these folks. But me? Me, I want to know what happened to my sister! I want to _know,_ you get it? And break the story wide open."

"That's an interesting story," Gerry said carefully. He used the slurp of his shake as a means of collecting his thoughts. "So, you think I'm going to get abducted, do you?"

"Mr. Lane, did they offer you lots of money? I spoke to a dad whose daughter and son in law said they were promised three times the national average for a starting teacher's salary."

 _That's interesting._ Gerry didn't want to give anything away, but the final interview did mention a very nice $50,000 a year for a minimum five year contract. "What exactly is it you want, Mr. Schoulter?"

Reaching under the table, Shoulter's thick, age-spotted hand removed bundle of wires. "Go in wired," he said. "Camera and microphone. You do this for me, Gerry, and I guarantee you can write your own ticket. And if I'm wrong, and it's all legit…well, no harm done, huh?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

So, two days later, with a microphone under his shirt and a small hidden camera in a pocket protector that made him feel like an extra in Revenge of the Nerds, Gerry Lane went to orientation. Once past the reception desk with the nice older lady named _Catherine!_ he made his way into the worn, older auditorium where he did indeed find tables groaning with food—pastries, sandwiches, rows of soda cans next to large buckets of ice, and large cylinders of iced tea or coffee. He grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper and a few sandwiches.

As he did so, a Pat Benatar clone who looked like she wasn't even twenty yet walked up to the table with a girl who was fifteen at the most. The teenager had long, straight auburn-to red hair gathered in a practical pony tail. She wore simple, nondescript jeans and conservative white blouse and shone with the promise of breath-taking beauty. Her older companion, though, had gone all out with her white-blonde hair cut into a Benatar-style short pixie cut, bright electric blue loose blouse with a dozen bangle bracelets on either arm, and tight, black leather pants with leg warmers and bright pink ballet shoes. Around her waist she wore a bright yellow sash like a belt.

The one divergence from her attempt to clone Pat Benatar was the fact she wore no make-up. She didn't need it, really. Her skin, though pale, was absolutely flawless. "Hey there, luv," she said, sounding very British.

"Hey yourself," Gerry said, momentarily enthralled by the British accent.

The Teen giggled but didn't say anything. Gerry nodded, grinning, and made his way to a seat facing the small podium at the front of the table. As he sat, he heard another accent foreign to the reaches of Stillwater, Oklahoma.

"Long way to go, though, wouldn't ya say, mate?"

Gerry looked over his shoulder, but saw the other man was speaking to a companion—a pretty girl with round cheeks and a bob. "Right, but it was all paid for, why not, yeah?" she said with a cheery smile. "Not every day I get to go to America."

The two sounded so utterly, completely British he just had to ask. "Excuse me, did you two actually come here from England?"

"Wales, mate," the man said, before grinning. "And yeah, we sure did. They paid for the ticket once we finished all the phone interviews. This is the final stop, though, so we'll be on our way soon enough."

Intrigued, Gerry looked around the room and had to admit it was crowded—over a hundred and twenty at a glance, maybe more. He realized how unlikely it was that this many local people would show up wanting to teach English as a Second Language in a foreign country. He'd been betting on Guatemala or Central America, himself, but after speaking with Schoulter he just wasn't sure.

He wasn't sure he believed the man, but with him being tailed and watched all the time, it was just too much of a coincidence. So, he kept his eyes open and looked around at the people in the auditorium. He didn't detect any risk. People ate and spoke, but it was the subdued conversation of people who didn't know each other and were not entirely sure of their circumstances.

Finally, their host Catherine walked to the front of the room and stepped onto a podium so that they could more easily see her. "Thank you all for coming!" she said with a happy smile. She sounded East Coast, Gerry thought, with just enough blurring around the edges to make him think she'd travelled quite a bit.

"As you all know, we're here today to discuss a unique travel opportunity. And the rewards are significant—fifty thousand dollars a year, five year minimum, with an opportunity to renew for another five years. The work will be teaching English to students of all ages who have never spoken it before. You are here because you have passed the vetting and initial interviews. If you sign your contract, you're in."

Gerry tried not to whistle—that was quite the salary. The salary schedule for teachers last year in '84 would have started him in the teens. High teens, but still teens. He saw others showing appreciation as well.

"Of course, there's a catch," she continued. "It's why the salary is so high. You will be completely incommunicado. No letters, no phone calls, no communication channels home at all. We're looking for young, highly educated, intelligent people willing to travel and leave home, and we're willing to pay for it."

 _Which is exactly what Schoulter said._ Gerry wondered if it was something to be concerned about, if the recruiters openly said they would be incommunicado.

"Right, then," an Australian said. "I come all this way, and I still don't know where we're going to be teaching."

"You'll be teaching in a small country called Kalmah," she said. She waved her hand, and from the ceiling dropped a view screen. The teen he saw earlier wheeled out a slide projector. The lights dimmed and they looked at a projected picture of a beautiful, mountainous area covered in trees. Another picture showed a large, two story square building with few windows in the middle of a field, and what looked like a family waving at them from in front of it.

Gerry tried but could not exactly peg down the nationality or ethnicity of the people. They could have been anything from British to Sudanese from the distance of the shot.

"The country is a constitutional monarchy with a standing parliament," Kathy went on to explain. "It has a very well-regarded royal family with a great deal of direct political power. It is an initiative of the royal family to have all of their subjects learn English. It is landlocked and extraordinarily remote, but has sufficient mineral wealth to afford this program and all travel associated with it."

Harry felt a little knot forming in his stomach. He didn't know everything, but the current nations and political landscape of the planet was one thing he did keep up on. He knew for a fact that there was no nation on earth called Kalmah, especially not a nation that looked surprisingly like pictures he'd seen of Canada.

"You're right, she's not telling the whole truth," a feminine voice whispered next to him.

He almost spilled his drink—a second before, no one had been within three seats of him. Now the Pat Benatar girl from the food table sat next to him.

"You surprised me," he said.

"I do that sometimes." She grinned, grabbed his soda, and swigged it before handing it back. "So what gave the lie away, you think?"

He glanced around the room, but no one seemed to be paying attention despite the fact they were speaking in normal tones and volume—loud enough to disrupt Catherine on the podium.

Looking back at the odd girl, he saw something in her eyes that made him realize there was no point in lying. For all she was dressed like a ditzy underclassman, the way she looked at him convinced him she'd know if he bluffed. "There's not a nation on this planet named Kalmah."

"Do you think she's lying about anything else?"

Gerry looked back at the woman who was now fielding questions. "Probably not. But if she's trying to keep it quiet where we're going, then it's probably a communist block country, or Libya, or someplace like that."

"Is that what Walt told you?"

Gerry felt his stomach knot. "What?"

"Walter West? Of course, he wouldn't use his real last name with you, would he? He's a colonel in the Air Force; been after us for years."

"Why?"

She laughed with an impish smile that changed her appearance from mildly interesting to openly pretty. "I stole his credit card once. He bought me a lovely dress in Chicago that he only found out about later."

Gerry, realizing the gig was up, decided not to bother lying. "He says you're kidnapping people off the face of the Earth. That you're killing them. He showed me a picture of his sister Claire and her family."

She blew a raspberry. "Sister my foot. Claire Jackson wasn't his sister; she was a professor of Egyptology in New York. She and her husband helped us immensely. She went on to become a dear friend of mine." The grin faded. "She did die, that's true. There was an attack. But her son Daniel's still alive and doing well."

"You're lying," he said, feeling again that not of fear. "You have to be. Schoulter said Jackson disappeared in 1968. It's been seventeen years. You were probably only two."

The girl leaned forward, her grin returning slightly. She leaned disturbingly close to Gerry's chest. "I'm much older than I look, Gerry. So, is he listening in? Walter, are you there? I'll pay you back for the credit card, I promise!"

Gerry couldn't help a fantic look around. Though he wasn't paying attention, it looked as if their host Catherine was almost done and people were beginning to stand and stretch. No sign of any soldiers, though. "Are you nuts? If he's really Air Force, they probably have people around the hotel!"

She leaned back, still wearing that impish grin. "Oh, they're here. Quite a few of them, really. They're all milling around in the parking lot trying to find the hotel. They can't see it." The grin cracked into a happy laugh. "Oh, it's driving poor Walt crazy. He can hear us right now but he can't see the hotel. Perhaps we should take pity on him. What do you think?"

"You want to just let him in? Won't he arrest you?"

"Dear, there's nothing he has that could stop me."

Gerry forced himself to calm down and evaluate not just the words, but the girl's body language and expression as she said it. For all her smiling and seeming enjoyment of the situation, she projected an utter confidence Gerry had never seen in anyone her age, much less a girl who looked like an MTV VJ reject. But when she said the United States Air Force had nothing to stop her, he realized she believed it herself.

She continued in a similar vein. "The truth is Walt is not a bad man, not at all. He's a patriot doing what he believes is right to protect his country. He just doesn't realize that I'm not really a threat. Still, I'm actually rather fond of him. Also, everyone else is gone."

"What…?" Gerry looked over his shoulder, and so to his shock that the auditorium was empty. The food tables had been thoroughly picked over, with only a few cans of Sprite (people in Stillwater only drank Sprite when everything else was gone) and a few desultory tuna sandwiches remaining. "Where'd everyone go?"

"They're on the way to the departure point," the girl said. "So, what do you think? Shall we let Walt in?"

He turned and stared at her. "You're playing with him."

"Maybe, just a little," she admitted, still grinning. However, a second later she sobered. "Perhaps, though, there is more to it. The others don't really care where they're going—most are trying to escape what they consider dead-end lives, or family violence. A few just want an adventure, and they won't care. But you…you do care, Gerry. You're filled with passion, and you're looking for a direction to pour that passion in. But we will be far, far away. And while I would very much like you to come, I think it's only fair that you hear the other side of the argument. So, let's let Walt in, shall we, and let the man have his say."

She stood and raised a hand. He'd not noticed before that her left hand was covered in an odd, skeletal glove of gold lace that left most of her skin bare, but seemed meant solely to hold a large red crystal against her palm. The crystal flared, and seconds later her heard a concerned scream from the hotel receptionist, the sound of boot steps, and men shouting.

"Let's go stand over at the podium, shall we?" she said.

"What's your name?" Gerry asked as he let her lead him across the floor.

"Luna," she said over her shoulder. "And before you ask, I'm married. I'm also almost old enough to be your mother. Like I said, I'm older than I look."

"Huh. Too bad."

She grinned at him as they stepped onto the podium. A split second later the doors to the auditorium crashed open and soldiers in heavy tactical gear and assault rifles poured in. Striding in their midst in full Air Force blues was Colonel Walter West.

"Hello, Walter!" Luna said with a cheery wave, completely ignoring the ring of soldiers and guns pointed at her. "How's Eloise doing?"

Gerry fought hard not to duck and run, but a quick glance confirmed the nearest exit was a good forty feet away—he'd never make it.

West's confident stride faltered. "How in the hell do you know my wife's name? I hadn't even met her in '68!"

"Dear, I've been inside your head. I can read your thoughts." This time Gerry turned and stared at her, incredulously.

"You're under arrest," West said, quickly shaking off that terrifying announcement. "Where are the other people you abducted?"

"Abducted?" Luna asked. "Luv, they signed five year contracts. We have a legal corporation and everything. We've not broken any of your laws."

"And do they know where they're going?"

Luna shrugged. "They do now. That's the last step of orientation. We do the final reveal and give them an opportunity to change their mind. But really, Walt, we wouldn't have recruited them if they were going to change their mind. Mainly, I want to talk to you about your stargate."

Walt's face blanked. "You know…"

"Well, I do now. Like I said, I can read your mind. But Walt, we have enemies. And if those enemies discover your world because you reopen your stargate, they will kill you. Not you, not your country, but the world. Everyone man, woman and child on Earth will die, probably within just hours. This recruitment drive is to teach refugees of a world we were allied with. Two billion. After our enemies attacked, there are less than a hundred million alive."

"What's going on here?" Gerry asked.

"She's an alien, Mr. Lane," Colonel West said, though he never took his eyes off Luna. "And she's going to take you from this world and you'll never been heard from again."

Luna scoffed. "Nonsense, I'm from Britain, I only work in space. And if Gerry wants to come back in five years when his contract ends, we'll bring him back."

"No one's ever come back."

Luna shrugged. "We have space ships and hot alien women. Why would they?"

"Really?" Gerry asked.

Luna laughed again. "No, I'm teasing. Our women are beautiful, but they are mostly human. Although I do know a delightful little human-reptile hybrid girl with eyes the color of gold. But she's the exception. You'll find most life in the galaxy is human." She studied Gerry's face carefully. "So, this is the truth. You'll be teaching English on another world. But everything else Catherine told you was true. She was one of first recruits, in fact." She turned back to the Colonel and his increasingly nervous soldiers. "You remember Catherine, don't you, Walt? We found Ernest for her, by the way. They've been happily married since then."

Gerry shook his head. "This has got to be a joke."

"Enough, arrest them!" West barked.

The soldiers rushed forward only to bounce back from a shimmer in the air that formed around the podium. One man fired his weapon, but the shimmer made the bullet bounce away.

Luna didn't even look away from Gerry. Instead, she pulled a roll of paper from her sash and placed it on the podium in front of him. He saw it was a contract with a little sticky to indicate where to sign. "You're not joking."

"Never," she said. "We aliens from Britain have no senses of humor."

"Now I know you're lying. You're enjoying this too much."

Luna shrugged, grinning again.

"Fine."

"Mr. Lane!" West shouted. It was too late, though. Gerry leaned over and using a pen Luna provided signed the contract.

A moment later, he disappeared. The soldiers backed away, concerned, as Luna stepped casually off the podium. Another man took a shot, but the shield seemed to follow her and caused the bullet to ricochet.

"Claire and Melburn were killed a few years ago during an early prelude to a war," she said, sadly. "They were among our very dearest friends. Two of their younger children were killed as well, but their son Daniel survived. My family adopted him, and he is doing very well. Please let Claire's family know."

"Why are you doing this?" West demanded angrily.

Luna shrugged. "We needed English teachers. But since you're here, I can give you another warning about the gate. We have enemies, Colonel, that you cannot imagine. Enemies that could vaporize the surface of this planet without you ever seeing them. If they discover you, they will do just that. I am still a daughter of this world, Walt, and it would break my heart if your meddling destroyed it. Please remember." She then disappeared with a pop, just like Lane.

"Damn it," Colonel West muttered.


	35. The Shadow of Time

A/N: Chap 34 review responses are in my forums, like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty Five: The Shadow of Time**

The bar was called the Union Jack and was an anomaly in the sprawling city of Byrsa. It was owned by a Tau'ri couple named Robert and Elizabeth Westmoreland.

Gerry Lane learned about the bar almost on the first day of his new life on an alien planet.

All the other candidates were just as excited and nervous about going to an alien planet as he was, but most of the flight was actually spent doing bureaucratic business. They were all inoculated both against diseases they might be exposed to, and diseases they might unknowingly bring with them.

They were given the fanciest identification card Gerry had ever seen—both sides held his picture, front and back in a clever three dimensional hologram. It did not have a magnetic strip reader, but did have a few metallic contact points. What he found interest was the "Place of Origin" tab. For him, it read, "Stillwater, Oklahoma, United States of America, Earth."

The people who helped them spoke with accented but still perfectly legible English. The two helpers, both tall, strong-looking women in mottled gray uniforms, sat at desks in either corner of the spacious, comfortably appointed spaceship and set things up so that when they arrived, they would be able to get settled that much faster.

However, when they were done, Luna reappeared with a tall man in his thirties that Gerry didn't recognize, though he had a pale, northern European complexion. What he noticed most, however, was how different Luna looked. The Cindy Lauper look was completely gone. Her hair was somehow long again and held away from her face by a pair of exquisitely made silver pendants. She wore a light blue blouse with dark brown culottes and boots. He noticed a cylinder hanging from a wide, jeweled belt at her waist and wondered why she would carry a flashlight like that.

The man wore a button-up, short-sleeved red plaid shirt and black trousers, and his face was dominated by a pair of thick glasses with heavy, black frames. "Good afternoon," he said loudly. He sounded mid-Western to Gerry. "My name is Nick Stanley. I am an assistant superintendent in the Bureau of Education. We know when you arrive you're going to be hit with a lot of things, so I won't pile too much on you. But there are some things that you need to know about. The Lady Luna was kind enough to let me tag along. Lady?"

"I'll leave you to it, then," she said with a gracious smile and a hint of that impish grin Gerry remembered. "Don't talk about me too much."

She turned and left the room, and to Gerry's surprise both the uniformed assistants left as well. The door closed behind them as well, leaving roughly two hundred of them facing Nick Stanley. He began talking in a quick, professional tone about the Bureau of Education and the state of Education in what he called the Empire of Kheb.

"Right now the Empire has settlements on six worlds, though only four of them are really habitable. There's a small terraforming operation on Kol'tac trying to restore a biosphere that the Goa'uld wiped out a few thousand years ago, and the planet Aspiracus was pretty much devastated in a military action leading up to the fall of Hebridan. And I know none of that makes sense to you, but it will soon enough. So, on the four worlds with legitimate settlements, we have right now close to three quarters of a billion people. And the Throne wants them speaking English."

"Why is that?" Gerry turned and looked at the questioner, and found himself staring at a very attractive red-head.

"The answer is complicated," Stanley admitted. "Right now, the _lingua franca_ of the galaxy is Goa'uld. You're going to hear that word a lot. You might even recognize the names of some Goa'uld—like Ra, or Apophis, or Cronos, or even Zeus, though I understand he's dead. If you can think of a god from Earths' pantheon, chances are that god is or was a Goa'uld that at one point or another landed on Earth and took slaves. That's why the majority of the Galaxy is actually human. It's also why the Throne wants its people to speak English as opposed to Goa'uld. Goa'uld is a slave language. At least, that's how it's being sold.

"Anyway, the point is that not all of you will stay on Kalmah. Since English as a subject is compulsory, we have teachers in every school. And most of them are exactly like you—recruited from Earth. With you lot, we have almost two thousand Earth natives in the Empire. We'll get into assignments once we have you settled. What I really wanted to talk you about though is the laws and how things work."

He left off for a moment and walked to a small wet bar on the far port side of the ship. He returned moments later with a bottle of water which he took a long swig from. "Okay, here we go. The Imperial Bureau of Education answers directly to the Tripartite Throne through a Secretary of Education who sits in the Executive Council. The Tripartite Throne is comprised of the Lady Hermione, the Lady Luna and Harry Potter, known as the Akai'kheb. While Kheb has a Charter of Empire very similar to a constitution, it is still very much an active monarchy."

Behind Stanley, the air shimmered and they found themselves looking at a very formal document He turned and pointed at a specific line. "That line right there—' _Insofar as the Akai'kheb and his Companions have been Chosen by the Most Holy Ancients as champions of this galaxy, we hereby declare this Empire of Kheb and all who live within its worlds to be wholly under their dominion_.' That's the first line of the Charter of Empire, and that pretty much sums it up. All political power flows from the Tripartite Throne. And if you're curious, the Lady Luna was one of those Companions mentioned. The other is Hermione, and their husband Harry Potter, the Akai'kheb. And if you walk down the street and say anything bad about them, chances are whoever is nearby will beat the living tar out of you. To the people of the Empire, the Tripartite are literally gods. The Empire is not based on the idea of the rights of the governed. It's based on the idea that Harry Potter was chosen by the gods of this galaxy to rule it. And there's a lot of people who believe that as literal truth.

"Kheb does have a Parliament with two houses divided a lot like the American congress—a House of Ministers, one per world, and a House of Representatives, whose numbers are determined by population. Parliament has the right and responsibility to write laws, but the Throne has the sole authority whether to implement, veto or change the law. Parliament officially acts in a legislative and even advisory capacity to the Throne as a voice of the people.

"The execution of any laws remains the purview of the Thrones through the establishment of various Imperial Bureaus, such as my own Imperial Bureau of Education. There's also an Imperial Bureau of Justice, which functions a lot like the FBI or Interpol, but with a lot more authority. The Imperial Bureau of Defense oversees all military action, while the Imperial Bureau of Revenue and Customs oversees all income sources for the Empire. And yes, there are taxes even in space."

That generated a few laughs, Gerry noted.

"This last is important. You don't get a trial by jury of your peers. Instead, there is a pool of people selected to serve on three person juries with the Imperially appointed Magistrate. The jurors have specific training. Citizens and residents of the Empire do not have the right to remain silent. It's stated that each resident has a responsibility to admit or deny their crime, taking into account that if they're later found guilty after declaring innocence their punishment would be increased for perjury. And the Charter gives the right of the Tripartite Throne to make summary judgment of any crime, and to receive or deny any petition from anyone accused of a crime."

Gerry frowned and raised his hand. "What does that mean, summary judgment?"

"It means if the Lady Luna back there said you were committing treason against the Empire, she could personally kill you and there wouldn't be anything you or anyone could do about it."

"Has that ever happened?" Gerry asked.

"Yes," Stanley said firmly. "Not to any of us ex-pats, though. Now don't get me wrong—they're not tyrants, not by a long stretch. People are pretty happy for the most part. But those Goa'uld I told you about? We're still fighting them, and occasionally they sneak spies in. So, enough about the scary stuff. Let's talk classroom responsibilities…"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Gerry had a house all his own. His baby blue twelve-hundred square foot, semi-detached two story home was one in a line of houses that could have fit in in any developed country on Earth. The slate tiles on the roof had a British feel, but otherwise Gerry liked it. It had a back garden, a front lawn, and a nice park at the end of the drive where he could see children playing,

Better yet, it was furnished. Not just furnished—he found clothes in the closet in his bedroom upstairs. The house came with a semi-electric hybrid bicycle. He grinned at that, remembering the adventures he and his friends had on their bikes in Stillwater.

He'd barely settled in and explored the house when the doorbell chimed. Curious, he walked back downstairs and opened it to see a small group of people gathered outside. Among them was Nick Stanely and the pretty red-head from the ship orientation.

"Settled in?"

Gerry nodded.

"Well, I've taken off my superintendent hat. Now I'm a neighbor, and I'm going to the finest establishment in the Empire. Why don't you come along? It's the only place on Kalmah where you can find a Budweiser. Off the clock, first round's on me."

"Do we even have any money?" Gerry asked.

Stanley snorted. "You didn't read about that signing bonus, did you? Come on."

It felt odd to ride a bicycle with a group of twenty other adults, especially considering he hadn't ridden one in at least six years. But after a few false starts and embarrassed laughs, he got the hang of it. He actually did better than some of them, but Stanley told them all that the bikes were actually the preferred means of personal transportation. And after pedaling for a few minutes, Gerry could understand why. The hybrid kinetic motor in the rear wheel made even going uphill surprisingly easy.

They rode for only ten minutes before they reached a tall concrete wall in recently tilled soil. The whole neighborhood looked new. And just beyond it was an equally new building with a picture of a mug on it and a sign in English announcing _Bob's Place_.

The inside looked a lot like the College Bar on the strip by OSU, only a lot newer. The bartenders looked and sounded American and called out a greeting as Nick Stanley led them in, and in mere minutes they were all gathered around a series of tables drinking, talking and watching unbelievably huge, flat televisions.

"What's going on?" he asked, after a few minutes of watching in confusion.

One of the bartenders, a man not much older than Stanley, grabbed a remote and turned it up. "Ah, the Prime Minister died. Had a heart attack. Supposedly the Lady Hermione was real upset. Word is if she'd been closer she could have revived him."

Gerry tried to recall from Orientation who the prime minister was.

"Kisher Lomet was his name, I think."

He turned and found himself looking into the brown eyes of the pretty red-head. "Well, my name's Gerry. Gerry Lane."

She smiled. "Karin Enos. Nice to meet you."

"So who's that leading the procession?" he asked.

"That, my lad, is the Lady Hermione herself," the bartender said broadly. "They're on Erid, and they pretty much think she's the Virgin Mary there, the way they treat her. Got a cult and temples and everything. Ever feel like a fight? Say something bad about the Lady to an Eridu and you'll have it."

Gerry thought the figure on television was attractive, but not extraordinarily so. She had a stronger chin than what he preferred. She looked the part of an icon, though, with silver armor that seemed to glow in what otherwise looked like a cold, gray day. He glanced at the window and saw it was bright and sunny where he was.

The announcer helped identify the others that came behind the Lady Hermione. They were the immediate family of Kisher Lomet, Prime Minister and one of the wealthiest men in the Empire. His wives Mulla and Suna wore black veils of mourning. Behind them walked their daughters, Loris and Lira, each accompanied by their own spouses and their children. Lira had four children with her husband Danis, while Loris had two with her husband Kinden. The two daughters wore black dresses, but refused to cover their faces in the old Erid tradition, choosing instead to adopt the Byrsa traditions of their husbands.

Floating behind them, unsupported by anything, came the open casket that held the body of Kisher Lomet himself. And immediately behind that came the Akai'kheb, levitating the casket with little effort.

Gerry leaned forward, interested in getting a better look. He was aware that others did the same. The man he saw appeared to be of middling height with dark hair. He wore similar silver armor to Hermione. Luna wasn't there—she had just returned with them from Earth, after all.

The air around him shimmered as if from heat. The many cameras recording the event caught the distortion of the air, but few commented on it. They did comment on the Prince, also clad in silver armor, who walked behind the Akai'kheb. According to the somber announcers, the public introduction of Daniel Kalmah was a shock to many, especially when they saw he wore the same type of weapon—a lightsaber—as did the royal family themselves.

"He is the single most eligible and sought after bachelor in history," one of the female announcers said. "Pictures of his face adorn the walls and nightstands of almost every girl in all six worlds of the Empire."

"He is cute," Karin noted.

"He's alright, I guess," Gerry said grudgingly.

Karin laughed.

Other mourners came as well after the family and Imperial family. All of the ministers and representatives of Parliament shuffled through the gate in their best finery. The commentators noted that the Lady Luna had remained on Kalmah to tend to affairs of state, but that most of the rest of the Empire had turned out to honor one of the founders of Parliament.

The procession continued through the Ekru and out into the vast parade grounds that surrounded the Mountain House, which had been repaired since the civil war which landed the government of Erid firmly on secular ground. Governor Arda Aldal stood waiting for them across the grassy park that once upon a time had been a paved parade ground before becoming the site of the Temple's worst atrocities.

Now it was a Memorial Park, a beautifully landscaped area around the Ekru with trees, flower gardens and sculptures memorializing all of the Protectors and civilians lost in the Civil War. Like the Byrsa, the Erid burned their dead.

After a few words of condolences to Kisher's family, Governor Aldal led them to the massive funeral bier that had been prepared for Erid's most famous son. _Anu_ Hermione, as she was known by the local cultists, took the casket from her husband with a wave of her hand and levitated it to the top of the bier.

What happened next merely cemented what the cultists had believed all along. Hermione rose into the air, her armor bursting into white flame, while a blue halo of flame formed around her head.

In a voice that rang to the heavens, she said, "Erid's Chosen Son has returned. Kisher Lomet was selected by chance and fate to be more than just another Erid businessman. Through his personal courage and invention, he proved that fate chose wisely. He was more than a business man—he was a leader who inspired an entire generation of his people that they could be more than what the fallen Temple of Anshur told them. He was more than a leader—he was a loving husband, who cared not just for the wellbeing of his wives, but for their happiness. He was a supportive father, who like himself wanted his daughters to be more than what the Temples told them they could be.

"Because of him, Loris and Lira Lomet now lead Lomet Industries, and through his teachings have excelled even beyond his wildest hopes.

"He was more than just all these things. He was our friend. Our conscience. He was a founding member of Parliament and a leading author of the Charter which binds this Empire together. I do not grieve for him, for he walks happily on Kheb, waiting for those he loves. I grieve for myself, and for all of you who have lost his most precious presence in our lives. Until we see you again, Kisher Lomet, walk in peace."

She floated down to the ground, the flame extinguishing.

"That's a fancy bit of special effects," Gerry noted.

The bartender snorted. "That's no effect, my boy. The Royals have powers, likes of which I've never seen. There's a reason everyone around here thinks they're gods."

The Akai'kheb stepped forward, and as he did the shimmering around him grew more pronounced. Kisher's family and those mourners who were too close backed away hastily as a column of fire rose into the air. From the boiling flames Gerry could see a fierce beak and wings of a bird. Its piercing cry rang through the air as it rose high enough to make the heavy clouds boil away, before diving suddenly into the funeral bier.

The fire was so intense the thousands watching gasped at its heat. In mere seconds, however, it was gone, as was the bier, Lomet's body, and several inches of the soil below it. The Akai'kheb and _Anu_ Hermione stepped forward toward the charred spot. To the interest of all, Prince Daniel stepped forward as well.

Hermione knelt and placed something in the center of the charred patch, though no one could see it from their distance, not even the cameras that tried zooming in. Moments later she moved to stand between her husband and adopted son. All three raised their hands toward the spot.

Throughout the city, the only sound was the cold, bitter wind. However, that gradually changed to a moan from the crowd as the first sprouts rose up from the ground. The moan became a thunderous roar that echoed over the whole city as the sprout continued to grow into a sapling, and from a sapling into a carick tree that continued to grow to almost sixty feet. They stepped back as the first fruits fell to the ground—the pit of which was an Erid delicacy similar to very large almonds on earth. It was Kisher's favorite snack, many knew.

"What the hell was that?" Gerry finally whispered.

Nick Stanley turned to face him, and then looked around the rest of the stunned teachers. "If not that, I'd have shown you a film from the Erid civil war, where the Royals, between the three of them, obliterated a ten-thousand man army. I don't know if they're gods or not, I really don't, but the most important thing you have to understand about the Empire is that those three have real power, not just political. Talk softly, that's all I'm saying."

The bartender snorted again. "Old Nick here just doesn't like them having that kind of power. Me? I'm fine with it. Know why? The Lady and Akai'kheb come in here all the time for drinks. Hell, it was Lady Hermione that made sure I'm stocked. She even helped me set up my own microbrewery since it is pretty damned hard to get beer from Earth now that the recruiting is slowing down. They'll come in, have a beer and a hamburger, and just hang out. As nice as can be."

"As long as you don't get too close," Nick said, darkly. "The Akai'kheb makes the air around him hot sometimes."

Gerry could only shake his head. "That's amazing."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Daniel Jackson Potter, formerly styled Daniel Kalmah, Prince of Kheb, ran through the mostly untouched forests of the eastern continent of Kalmah with his adopted father. They did not jog or even trot, but ran at a full sprint through, under, around and often over the thick undergrowth of the forests. The Force flowed through them both, though Daniel could feel something within Harry that he didn't feel within either himself or Luna. Auntie Hermione had a little of it, but it seemed almost a reflection of Harry.

The Emperor of Kheb burned with a deep core of rage and darkness that no one could have imagined without the Force to inform them.

It burned in him now as they ran. For all that Daniel was half Harry's age, he still had to pull deeply and strongly on the Force to keep pace. Harry didn't pull on the Force so much as suck it into him, the same way an event horizon sucked in light.

In the course of the past four years, Daniel spent most of his training time with Luna or Hermione. Hermione was the better dueler and fighter, while Luna was skilled in the more esoteric aspects of Force power. This wasn't to say Luna could not fight, or Hermione lacked skill in the Force. Rather they each had their own strengths and played to those strengths.

Completely limiting themselves to their Force powers and not magic, Hermione was the broadsword and Luna was the rapier; Harry was the staff cannon. He could do everything Hermione or Luna could do, but did so without either the finesse or limitations of his wives. Luna could slip painlessly into a person's mind to rife through thoughts or feelings. It was why she was most often the Tripartite representative when Parliament was in session. She could direct the Parliament much like a conductor directing a choir.

If necessary, Hermione could cause a person to drop dead of an aneurism, or wipe their memories of whole days. She could use the Force to sharpen her intellect to learn vast amounts of information in a relatively short period (a skill Daniel appreciated learning) and was adept at Force lightning, something Luna could use but did not like.

Harry caused heads to explode, and if he went after a person's memories, more often than not they were left as a vegetable. His Force lightning was so powerful it could kill—not just a single target, but rather an entire room.

But what Daniel had truly come to understand as he grew more powerful himself, was how angry Harry was all the time. These runs had moved across the planet not because of space, but because of exposure. Harry did not just run through the forest, he destroyed it, blasting trees to splinters and ripping stumps from the ground. He did all this at a full run that stretched Daniel to his limits in the Force.

This day, especially, was bad. Daniel had lost count of the trees Harry had destroyed. His dodging the destruction was in fact part of his own training—it was like a live-fire exercise. Though Daniel tried his best not to think about it, he also knew that when Harry had gone on a run like this, he quite often returned to Byrsa and spent the rest of the day closed up with Hermione and Luna both.

That was one aspect of the Force Daniel sometimes regretted. Because while they silenced themselves, the Force reverberated with their sometimes savage passion.

They'd been running for three hours now—if the pattern held true, Harry would stop soon and they would return to Byrsa by portkey. Daniel would spend the rest of the day trying hard not to think about what his adopted parents were doing.

They eventually stopped in a clearing—the noon-day sun shone down on them free of the trees that had obscured it all day. The clearing, Daniel saw, was one of Harry's making. Shattered, broken trees littered a ground dotted with craters from where he tore out the stumps. Breathing heavily, Harry walked to one of the horizontal trunks and sat on it.

Daniel put his hands over his head to expand his lungs and tried to continue refreshing himself in the Force.

"I didn't realize he was so old."

Daniel dropped his hands and turned to study his adopted father, genuinely surprised at the confession. Harry sat on the tree staring at nothing, his shoulders slumped in a posture of exhaustion the Emperor rarely demonstrated.

"My general staff are all Jaffa—Teal'c's approaching eighty, and he doesn't look a day over thirty. Bra'tac is over a century, and An'hur is seventy-something, I think. Kisher wasn't _even_ seventy."

Sensing that much of Harry's rage was blunted, Daniel joined him on the tree trunk. "He was fifty when he arrived here," he pointed out. "I think he lived a good life, Uncle. For all of their hard words, Mulla and Suna adored him. Frankly I think he liked their arguments as much as when they were kind to him. His businesses thrived and he was a consummate politician. And that tree was just the kind of memorial he would have wanted. He didn't have any regrets."

Harry nodded, though he continued looking into the distance. "Luna said we received a birth notice from Tel'gat and that policeman of hers. She's a mother now. They named the girl after Hermione. Mina or something."

"Mione. Mione Andona Montrose. She's three weeks old now. Very cute, I suppose, for a baby."

"Three weeks?"

"You've been busy," Daniel said with a shrug.

"Huh." Harry sighed. "This melancholy is irritating. Yes, Kisher was my friend. He reminded me of a man named Bartleby who taught me everything I know about business. But he died. Everyone dies eventually. I need to move on."

It was an unusual confession for Harry. In a way, Daniel felt honored the man trusted him enough to even make the admission. "I believe it's okay to mourn him," Daniel said. "You've not stopped your work; you're not doing anything wrong in admitting that you miss him. I miss him too, even if I wasn't as close to him as you were."

Harry smiled at Daniel, as if at a joke. "You're trying to comfort me, Daniel?"

"I suppose, though I guess I'm not doing a good job at it."

With a surprisingly free smile, Harry gripped his shoulder. "I don't think anyone I wasn't married to would even make the effort. Thank you." His expression clouded a second later. "I wonder how old you'll be when I lose you, too?"

Daniel shrugged. "As Luna might say, it'll be as the Force wills. That's not a reason to not be close, though. Luna's Empress' Day is the highlight of her month. She spends the entire day just playing with children, sometimes she and Hermione both. They know those children are going to grow up, grow old and eventually die. And yet they enjoy the time with them they have. Maybe you should try it."

"Daniel, I don't like children. You weren't interesting at all until you were in your teens and Omac… Do you feel that?"

Harry had stood and Daniel did a moment later as well. The Force shimmered around them with a sense of warning and danger. He instinctively reached for his lightsaber, and a moment later had it ignited and swinging down, while Harry jumped forward and spun his own. The reports of the sniper rifles reached their ears seconds later.

"Two separate groups, five men each," Harry said, honing instantly onto the threat. "Break and attack. Don't kill, I want to interrogate them. Go!"

Daniel did as instructed. After four years of intensive training, drawing on the Force was less an act of intent than an instinct, like breathing. All exhaustion from their hours-long run washed away as he propelled himself to one side of where he sensed their attackers were. Wind whipped at his face and he knew that to the attackers he was moving so fast he blurred.

Luna and Hermione both were careful over the years to pound into Daniel's head that the Force did not make anyone impervious. They told him about their first encounter with the Jaffa of Apophis, and how they were both captured despite their powers. It was why if they ever encountered a Goa'uld they killed it quickly.

For all his skill, Daniel was untested in true combat. He'd sparred and even done real live-fire exercises, but he'd never gone against people actively trying to kill him. He was not confident as to how talented or prepared his attackers were. They were smart enough to attack from two different angles and try for what would be kill shots for anyone else.

Daniel broke through the underbrush in the clearing and then jumped into the trees as a spray of automatic fire began mowing down bushes. Clutching a branch with one hand, Daniel looked down at the squad of heavily armed men as they formed a firing line around them. They'd not seen Daniel jump up, and in their experience didn't realize that anyone could jump forty feet into the air.

If he'd had a shock grenade, the encounter would already be over. However, he didn't make a habit of bringing shock grenades on his runs with Harry. He could not generate Force lightning, so that wasn't an option either. The men wore Hebridan military uniforms, which he found interesting, and moved with a certain familiarity around each other, as if they'd trained together. They also handled their weapons securely. They screamed _professional_.

Closing his eyes, Daniel concentrated on one of the trees that stood beside their group. It took effort, but he caused the trunk to fail. With an explosive pop and then the groan of crashing wood, the tree came down right in the men's midst. Daniel swung and dropped almost at the same instant.

The five men dove for cover in two different directions, just as Daniel intended. He landed in the middle of three of them as they scrambled for their feet. With a burst of will Daniel sent one man flying against a far tree. He took the second man's gun hand off at the wrist before blasting him.

The third rolled away and opened fire; Daniel vaporized the bullets with his saber before grasping the man and tossing him twenty feet into the air. The other two were already firing over the fallen tree trunk. Daniel flipped over the tree and the men as the remainder of the first three thudded heavily to the ground.

Daniel hated hurting people. He could feel their pain reverberate back to his consciousness whenever he was forced to hurt someone in training. True combat was no different. But he respected these men's abilities too much to play around. So, gritting his teeth at their pain, he took their gun hands off as well before blasting both into the fallen trunk behind them.

A quick survey with the Force assured him all five were out of the fight.

"Very good," Harry said behind him. Daniel turned to see Harry walking toward him with five men levitating behind him, all bound together in conjured ropes. The Emperor began waving his hands and Daniel's group flew from their various fallen positions into a pile similar to the other group. When all five sat with their backs to each other, heads bowed in unconsciousness or deep injury, Harry conjured thick robes that bound them all together.

Another gesture summoned all of them men's weapons into a pile which clumped together and then rested on the space between the five bowed heads. Daniel could tell it would be uncomfortable.

"Let's get these bastards back to Byrsa," Harry said. "We'll let Luna have first go."


	36. Penance and Picnics

A/N: Review responses for last chapter are in my forums as normal. And now an extra-long chapter to wrap up Part IV.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Six: Penance and Picnics**

The ten men Daniel and Harry captured and brought back to Byrsa did not stand public trial before a magistrate. They were not openly charged with attempted regicide. Instead, they were placed, one-by-one, in a small room with the Vice Empress.

A few or the captive men tried to attack her, but they quickly learned the futility of that. While Luna looked petite and weak, and while she might not have been the fighter Hermione or Harry were, she was still far more than mere human.

Each "interview" took only minutes, and consisted of Luna sitting across a featureless table from one of the captives. The entire process took less than two hours. She did not speak to Harry, Daniel or Hermione during the interviews. Her face was an uncharacteristically stony mask that made the IBJ personnel nervous as they took out each exhausted, gibbering suspect and brought in another.

When they were done, Luna rose from the table and left the room to the observation area where Daniel and Harry waited with arms crossed.

"I need to meditate," she said before either man could speak. "The men are guilty, but I advise against executing them just yet. We'll speak at dinner."

Luna rarely ever issued orders to Harry; politics was the one area she did. And it was the one avenue Harry often yielded to her judgment. "Alright. Tonight, then."

The two watched her walk down the hallway of the Imperial Bureau of Justice corridor. IBJ staff and officers alike stood to one side as she passed, as nervous to be around her as they were to be around Harry.

"What do you think it means?" Daniel asked.

"Nothing good," Harry said. "Let's go clean up."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

That evening, Harry, Hermione and Luna met in a private executive office hidden away from the rest of the palace not just by ordinary security, but by a host of powerful ward stones that no one else in the Empire had an answer too. For the first time, Daniel joined them.

The room was as large as the solarium but without the windows. The light was decidedly artificial. What interested Daniel was the walls in the room, which obviously occupied a space directly under one of the palace's domes give the domed ceiling overhead. In the Force, they had the tell-tale feeling he'd come to associate with his faster family's magic.

The room was unfurnished when they entered, but within a few steps Daniel was surprised when a pair of sofas formed with a reclining, heavily padded chair in their midst, from thin air. His adopted family were not surprise, so Daniel did not react. He sat on one sofa while Harry and Hermione took the other. Luna sat on the recliner, looking just as pensive as when she finished the interrogations.

"They were Hebridan Special Forces," she began without hesitation. "They were operating under the direct orders of President Danis Muldon with satellite support and transporter back up to get them to a position effective enough to launch an attack."

"Muldon died on Hebridan," Harry noted with velvet calm.

"So far as we know," Hermione said. She consulted her computer tablet. "We had reports from eye-witnesses of seeing his body at the time, but we've never been able corroborate that testimony. The witnesses are either classified as dead or unaccounted for."

"Regardless, the men believe they were taking orders from Muldon," Luna responded. "They believe that we are the ones responsible for the Goa'uld attack on Hebridan."

Daniel was sixteen when Hebridan fell—and at the time he was too busy mourning the deaths of his family to really pay that much attention to the political affairs despite Luna's attempts to tutor him. What he most remembered was Omac and Luna's supplication. Harry was still upset about not having direct control over the ion cannons which guarded his Empire.

"Did President Muldon have reason to believe that?" Daniel asked carefully.

"Of course he did," Hermione said with a tired sigh. She leaned back into Harry's left arm. "We counted on the System Lords attacking Hebridan instead of any of our worlds directly, but we honestly thought it would be a token attack that we could then go in and stop. Hebridan had the healthiest defensive forces this side of Tollan. They had an early warning system that could detect ships in hyperspace transit hours away from their world. We just didn't account for the sheer size of Ra's offensive."

"So you were trying to set up a situation where you could save the day and become heroes to Hebridan," Daniel summarized.

He felt Harry's sharp gaze on him, but between them Luna nodded. "Yes, in so many words. And that's why Omac was less than pleased with us, because even with my vision in the Force, I could not see the consequences as clearly as the Tollan Curia's prediction models. I think, in hindsight, I was skewing the vision to my own desires. We miscalculated, Daniel, badly. And it cost almost two billion lives in the end. Those men who attacked you were acting as the conscience of their world."

Harry leaned forward after freeing his arm from Hermione's shoulders. "In accordance with orders issued by a dead man."

"That doesn't make their motivation any less justified."

"We can't apologize, Luna," Hermione said firmly. Even urgently. "Politically, we can't. Not only would it make us fallible to our enemies, it would be a direct admission of guilt. It would weaken the Empire immensely. We're easily within thirty years of the Enemy's arrival, if yours and Harry's visions are true—we're on the doorstep of taking direct military action against the System Lords. We can't let everything crumble before the enemy arrives. Moreover, we need the Hebridan's technical expertise!"

Luna shook her head, and for a moment her control slipped to reveal a deep, ravaging guilt. "Hermione, can't you hear them? Can't you hear their screams? We have to make it right, somehow."

"We can never make it right, Luna," Hermione said grimly.

"We have to try," Luna said.

"You're skewing your vision again," Harry said. He leaned forward and stared into his smaller wife's eyes. "Luna, step aside from the guilt and pain. Yes, our actions precipitated an attack. But we are not the Goa'uld. We can only take so much responsibility for the Goa'uld decision making. What concerns me is a dead man issuing orders. I want to know where that dead man is, and why he's not dead."

"That's a tall order," Hermione said. "So many refugees came in that even now, years later, we haven't completed a comprehensive census of them all. It's possible tens or even hundreds of thousands are unaccounted for. And while we may be growing, the vast majority of this planet is still uninhabited. There are a lot of places to hide."

"Then we'll have to set a worm on a hook and go fishing," Harry said.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Captain Andon Montrose took a deep breath to calm his nerves, handed his side-arm to his lieutenant, and then nodded at the security camera facing him. A split second later the secure door slid open and Montrose stepped into a room with ten men, half of them with med-cups over the stumps of their wrists where Prince Daniel literally unhanded them.

All ten men straightened and glared with that special, distilled hatred reserved for insects and traitors. Montrose had been seeing more and more of it over the past few months from his fellow immigrants, but it wasn't until Tel'gat brought him to a meeting with the Akai'kheb himself that he began to see why.

"That's nice," one of the men said. "Having a traitor pull the trigger, is he?"

"Be kind of hard without a gun," Montrose said dryly. "I'm unarmed. I've come with a message from the Akai'kheb."

"Well, let's hear it, then," another of the men said.

"The message isn't for you," Andon said. "You are being released. No action will be taken against you at this time. In return, you take me with you. And I deliver my message to those its intended for."

"What makes you think you'll get a chance?" another man said.

Montrose shrugged. "The message I bring is one of peace. If you reject it, the next one will not be so peaceful. Believe me, gentlemen, you do not want to play hide-and-seek with clairvoyants who can read your mind."

The door behind Montrose opened. The ten men stood, sharing worried glances at each other. "What type of trick is this?"

"The Tripartite knows you are soldiers following orders," Montrose said. "The Akai'kheb respects soldiers. If he doesn't have to kill them, he tries not to. Whatever you might think, you were never a danger to the man. So he's giving you a chance to live. If you choose not to accept the offer you'll die before the end of the day. I think you've seen there's nothing you have that can stop him."

"And if we accept, and then kill you?" another man said.

Montrose shrugged and decided to vent a little of his frustration over the behavior of his people recently. "Then my daughter will have lost her father twice. I almost died on Hebridan doing rescue runs. I was on one of the slave ships fighting to save our people while you assholes were sitting around plotting revenge against the only people in the whole galaxy that actually bothered to help us. Kill me or not, I know I've done more for our people than you have. So, are you going to be smart, or are you going to die?"

"Come on, Del, let's go," one of the shorter men said to the leader. Dell stood an inch taller than the rest with heavy features and a square chin. He was not a handsome man by any definition, not with a lifetime of violence scored across his face in the form of nicks and scars.

"Right, fine," he said. "We'll take you with us."

The ten of them left their cell with Montrose in their midst. The IBJ captain led the way, straight-backed. Around them, other officers and IBJ staff backed out of the hall, each eying the ten men coldly.

"So you like working with the enemy, do you, Montrose?" Del asked.

"A tenth of the IBJ is Hebridan," he said. "People like me who fought on slave ships to free our people. The only real enemy is the Goa'uld."

"Right, you keep telling yourself that," Del said.

They arrived outside of the IBJ building into a plaza dotted with random concrete planter boxes and swathes of random Byrsa grass. While the effect made for a lovely garden, it also made it extremely difficult for any ground vehicles to get too close to the building, which was essentially a five-floor square of glass and reinforced concrete.

The men were not given their weapons or communications back, nor did they seem to expect it. Rather, they made their way to the nearest public com terminal, a relatively recent innovation being introduced in Byrsa City.

Del did the talking on the com while the other nine men stood closely around Montrose, not trying in the least to hide their ill-intent. With that, they started walking again. The day was a typical summer day on Kalmah, with temperatures just north of being comfortably warm. The sun shone low in the sky with the early hour, while over the mountains in the distance Andon could see clouds boiling up for a possible afternoon shower.

They walked for half an hour, coming within sight of the lake, when a large white van rolled to a stop beside him. Montrose made no effort to resist when he was forcibly thrown in. Once they were in the van rough hands began stripping him. Again, he made no effort to resist.

After being stripped searched and then scanned for any listening or tracking devices, Del threw his clothes back at him with a sneer. "Heard those Mal Jaffa girls are so big you can park a trolly in their cunnys. With a pecker that small, she must not even be able to…"

Andon managed to plant a heel right into the man's groin. It cost him a few blows, but it was worth it. "I don't care about what you assholes think of me. But my family is off limits."

One of the other men chuckled. Surprisingly, Del let it go with just the few blows his men already delivered.

They drove for almost two hours in silence before stopping at a private airfield deep in the forested mountains. Waiting for them Andon saw a large, cobbled-together prop-engine aeroplane, as if right out of a museum. "Really?" he asked. "You're going to fly in that?"

"Shut up." Soldier or not, Del managed to sound embarrassed of their transport. They climbed into the bare-bones crate and soon were flying. Though the craft appeared to have been cobbled together with spare parts, the engine noise was relatively low. The propellers were fusion-cell powered turboprops that were much more advanced than the rest of the craft.

Soon enough they were over water, and from the position of the sun he knew they were over the eastern of the planet's two large oceans. However, well before they could have reached the second continent the plane began to descend. Andon craned his neck to see if they were approaching land.

Del said, "Don't bother. There's nothing to see."

Having not seen any water skids, Andon felt surprise when they began skimming over waves. He could feel the water impacting the hull under his feet like hammer blows. Soon they settled into the water, skimming forward almost like a hydroplane until coming to a stop. The rocking motion immediately made his stomach start to turn.

"Have I mentioned I get motion sickness?" he said.

"Puke on your own time, traitor," one of the other men said.

They popped open the door to reveal the dark blue-gray hull of a large ship bobbing in the water beside them. A rope and plank bridge was lowered down to them on a joist from the ship's deck. "Go," Del ordered.

Montrose went, clinging desperately to the ropes until he reached the questionable safety of the deck. Once there, more armed men and women gripped his arms and slapped a pair of cuffs on him. Every one of them had the look of Hebridan soldiers in the shape of their cheeks and chins, and all of them stared at him with the same hatred as Del and his men.

"Do another scan," Del ordered as he came aboard. "Us too. Just to be safe."

"Right," one of the female soldiers said.

So, once again Montrose was subjected to another strip search, this one far more intrusive than the first. He tried his best not to be too embarrassed by the two women who joined the team searching him. The scans were fairly extensive, including blood tests and EM scanners.

"He's clean," the same female soldier as before said. She had a dark, copper color to her hair, though he could only tell when she walked under the lights of the ship since she had it pulled back so severely. In some ways she reminded Andon of his wife Tel'gat—her features were too distinctive and strong to be considered attractive by most. "Come on."

She led him back onto the deck just in time to hear an earsplitting horn from the ship's conning tower. An answer came from the west—another ship. Andon turned and stared at what could only have been a Hebridan luxury liner—the kind common on Hebridan which could fly to the super ocean of his old home world and then cruise as if a water ship. The craft massed easily 107,000 tons and stretched four hundred meters. While it wasn't as large as a Goa'uld Ha'tak, it was one of the largest ships Hebridan operated.

What was most concerning was how the sunning decks had so easily been converted into VTOL landing pads for the dozen Hebridan Endo/Exo atmospheric fighters that berthed on it. The ship bristled as well with both rail gun cannons and laser cannons, almost as if it had been built as a dedicated ship of war.

They took an inflatable skimmer to the larger ship, docking at a ramp that extended into the water. The people who met them were in full Hebridan Defense Force uniforms, with side-arms for the officers and heavy carbines for the non-coms. Again, their gazes were unfriendly as Montrose was escorted from the skimmer deep into the ship.

Nothing about the ship reminded Andon of a luxury liner. All the bulkheads were reinforced. What should have been wide, open walkways were narrow with several weapons placements in the event of hostile boarding.

Through lifts and corridors, his escorts dragged him through most of the ship until they reached a wardroom with a long, oval table surrounded by chairs. Several people were there, and to his shock Montrose recognized at least two of them as high-ranking members of the Hebridan Defense Forces command—especially the lone Serrikan.

"All stand!" a sharp voice barked.

Everyone at the table stood up as a dead man walked into the room. Danis Muldon was a tall human with thinning gray hair and a sharp chin. Before being elected President of Hebridan, he was a twenty year veteran of the Defense Force, either as an officer, or later as the Minister of Defense. He glared at Montrose now as he stepped to the table and sat down.

Around him, the others sat. Andon was never given opportunity, instead being forced to stand at the far end of the table.

"So you're the traitor I keep hearing about," Muldon said in a deep, chilling voice. "The voice of the Tripartite Throne trying to use puppets to pacify our people."

"And you're the president who played dead to escape the Goa'uld," Andon snapped back. "I risked my life saving my people. I have nothing to apologize to, especially not to a coward politician like you. Now, do you want to hear the throne's message or not?"

"Not particularly, no," Muldon said.

"It's on your head, then," Montrose said. "Quidditch!"

In truth, Andon didn't know for sure if the magic would work. He'd tested the portkey before releasing the prisoners just so he could grow accustomed to the odd form of teleportation, but he had his doubts. However, magic could not be detected by any known scans. So no matter how many times they scanned him, they would never detect that portkey magic that the Akai'kheb personally embedded in his very slacks.

He disappeared with a loud pop, spinning through the disorienting tunnel of magic, only to stumble to a stop in a white-walled room. Somehow he wasn't surprised to see the Akai'kheb himself there with the Lady Hermione by his side. "Alright, there?" Harry asked. "We were beginning to wonder."

"Yes, Majesty, just a little dizzy. I found him—I saw President Muldon in person on board a militarized Hebridan luxury cruiser in the Western Ocean."

"Good work, Andon." The Emperor turned to his wife. "Hermione, are you ready?"

She nodded and the two leaders of the Empire grabbed onto Montrose as he said, "Quidditch!" a second time. The trick to the whole operation was to get Montrose to whoever the leader was before activating a two-way portkey.

The three of them appeared seconds later right where they left. Only, in the thirty seconds they were absent, the room had gone insane as worried officers stood and started yelling orders, while others tried to get the president out of the room.

The moment the three appeared, the Lady Hermione raised her hand device and magically sealed all the doors. One slammed particularly hard in Muldon's face, cutting half of the president's escorts off. All eyes turned to look warily at the newcomers.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, let's have a seat and talk, shall we?" Harry spoke with utter calm and confidence. Whether by magic or bravado, his voice easily cut through the pandemonium which previously had dominated the ward room.

A Hebridan marine pulled his side arm only to slump boneless to the floor before a shot was fired.

"If I had any intention of killing you, I would have done so from orbit the moment Captain Montrose returned," Harry said. "Make no mistake, I could still kill every one of you with a thought. But all things considered, I and my family feel we owe you an opportunity to voice your concerns. When we are done speaking, my wife and our colleague will depart peacefully. This appears to be a space-worthy ship. We will let you leave Kalmah in peace."

"We have no reason to believe you," President Muldon said angrily.

"And you have no reason not to," Harry said with a shrug. He held the back of a chair for his wife, and once the Lady Hermione was seated he sat himself at the far end of the table where Montrose moments before was forced to stand. The captain now stood behind and to the Akai'kheb's right in the honor guard position.

Harry sat and simply stared at Muldon before the president, blushing angrily, moved to sit at the table. The other officers did not return to their seats, but rather remained standing on the president's side.

"So, you sent a squad of special forces to attempt to assassinate me and my adopted son," Harry began. "I believe it was very generous for us to return them to you mostly intact. So let's use that as a point of discussion. The Empire of Kheb took your people in at great expense and have provided a home secure from the Goa'uld. Why did you respond with an assassination attempt?"

"Because you are the ones responsible for Hebridan's fall!" Mudlon snarled, angrily.

"I don't believe any forces of Kheb fired on Hebridan forces," Harry said. "In point of fact almost two thousand Khebbish military personnel lost their lives attempting to protect your people from the Goa'uld."

"The Goa'uld invaded because of the Empire of Kheb encroaching on the trade worlds of Farber and Aspiracus! They knew we had been allied and attacked us because we were your primary supplier of technology."

"How does this make the Empire responsible for the invasion of Hebridan?" Harry asked calmly.

"They destroyed our world because of you!" Muldon shouted, slapping the table. "Over a billion and a half of our people died, because of you! How can you claim to help us when everything that happened is your fault?"

"The Goa'uld hated Hebridan," Harry explained bluntly. "No Hebridan forces were involved in the annexation of Aspiracus or Farber. There was no reason for the Goa'uld to attack you except for the fact that they despised you, and you were our allies. You gained your independence from them and kept it. They didn't attack you because we made them angry—they used our incursion as an excuse to do what they've wanted to do for centuries—erase a stain of dishonor caused by Hebridan's independence."

"However," Hermione said, eyes narrowed, "you are the last person to need us to explain Ra's motivation. You are, after all, a Goa'uld."

Muldon leaned back as if struck. "How desperate can you be to make a statement that ridiculous?"

"You were the Minister of Defense for years before you became president," Harry said. "Let me ask—what happened to the Hebridan early warning network? You should have had at least five hour's warning of those incoming ships in which to either mount a stronger defense or begin a better evacuation. Instead, when we arrived, the ha'taks were already in close orbit firing on you. The secret railgun facility on your moon had been ordered to wait and hide—it took me shaming the commander of the facility personally to make him open fire. If that rail gun had engaged earlier, before the Goa'uld made orbit, it would have had a devastating effect on the attacking forces and may very well have bought you the time you needed to mount an effective defense even against an attack that large. In fact, if you take into account that your railgun only fired because of me, the only Goa'uld losses resulted directly from Khebbish intervention. Why was that?"

"They somehow circumvented our early warning network," Muldon said, though with a touch less anger.

"No, you just ordered it to undergo maintenance," Hermione said. "More importantly, you died. We had independent confirmation that you were killed. I should ask your officers when you arrived on Kalmah. It certainly wasn't with the first wave of refugees. You had to have time in a Sarcophagus first."

"You're unfounded accusations will accomplish nothing!" Muldon shouted. "My people know the truth!"

"That's the problem," Harry said. "Your people are the Goa'uld. But please, prove us wrong. The scanning equipment you used on Captain Montrose here would easily detect the presence of a Goa'uld larva. Have yourself scanned."

"I am the president of Hebridan! I have nothing to prove to you!"

"We're telepathic, Muldon," Hermione said with a humorless smile. "You've already proven it to us. We can feel the Goa'uld within your body. The Goa'uld are ancient and patient—it would be nothing to take a whole human lifetime to ensure they had a highly placed agent in an enemy government. Once again, a simple scan will prove the truth to your people."

Behind the Emperor, Montrose noticed the lone Serrikan nod to one of the marines.

"I will not hear any more of this!" Muldon said, slapping the table again. "I will not let you twist the circumstances of our world's death to your political advantage. I demand that you leave this vessel and allow us free passage off Kalmah! Now!"

Behind him, the marine's hand scanner flashed bright orange. It did not make any sound since in a combat situation that could be dangerous. But from his position behind the Emperor Montrose could see how the young marine paled as he showed the results to the rest of the surviving general staff while Danis Muldon raged.

The Serrikan General, whose name was Tsoli Gaspar if Andon remembered correctly, turned to look directly at the Emperor before nodding once.

The Lady Hermione held up her hands, cutting President Muldon's rant off mid-word. "Very well, Mr. President. You've let us have our say; we will do as we promised." She lifted the hand device and made a circular motion. All around, doors opened to admit worried marines. The marine who did the scanning and two others immediately ran to Muldon's side. "This way, Mister President," they said as they guided the Goa'uld from the room.

"Command staff are to stay, all others evacuate and seal the room immediately," Gaspar ordered the moment Muldon was gone.

The newly arrived Hebridans stared briefly at two of the two members of the royal family in trepidation before finally turning to leave the room. Moments later the doors closed. Gaspar sat in the president's old seat. The other members of the command staff did the same.

"Are there any more Goa'uld?" Gaspar asked.

"No," Hermione said. "At least not in this room. It's likely there are others on this ship, though. Either to aid him, or to spy on him on behalf of competing Goa'uld."

"He will be dealt with quietly," the Serrikan general said. "If word got out, it would be devastating to our people."

"As far as I know, President Muldon died a hero on Hebridan, fighting for his people with his last breath," Harry said calmly from the head of the table. "General, your people are at a crossroad. Hebridan will not be habitable again for centuries without significant terraforming. While I will admit that the Empire of Kheb's actions gave the Goa'uld the excuse they were looking for, we are not now, nor have ever been, your enemy. In point of fact we are the only friends you have. Despite that, your people are rioting in our streets weekly. What is it you want?"

Gaspar regarded the two royals carefully. "The President expressed a desire to assassinate you and then to take all Hebridans from Kalmah to colonize a new world," he admitted with refreshing candidness. "He seemed to believe we would be able to recover more of our people from the Goa'uld using military force. In retrospect, we will have to determine if that was just a cover to get the people of Hebridan out from behind those ion cannons of yours."

"Most likely the latter," Hermione said. "Our own intelligence tells us that Ra was less than pleased with the number of slaves that escaped. From what we've been able to tell, the majority of the slaves have gone to the System Lord Cronus who orchestrated the attack."

"The people of Hebridan are important to the Empire," Harry said. "You helped us save whole generations of Mal Jaffa, and opened the door to saving even more. Despite all we've done, your people still have a much higher level of education and technical expertise than ours, though I like to think that gap is closing with each generation. Morally, ethically, technically, we need you. But I also understand how your people may resent the refugee status. I also know that some of the Byrsa have expressed growing resentment over the continuing riots. We need to stop this before any biases become entrenched."

"So what do you propose?" Gaspar said.

"Membership of Parliament is based on world populations," Hermione said. "In order for the Hebridan people to have a voice in Parliament, they must have their own world. And it so happens, General, that we have a world that was recently evacuated."

"You mean Aspiracus," the Serrikan said. "It is mostly lifeless."

"The southern continent has developed a new biosphere," Hermione said. "The oceans have recovered and are producing oxygen again. Moreover, it has a similar climate and gravity pull as Hebridan does. It is colder than what you are accustomed to, but that could be made to change with some engineering."

"But you would still want us in your empire, subject to Imperial law," Gaspar said.

"Yes," Harry said. "The Tollan Curia has a mutual defense agreement with Empire. We lease ion cannons from them in return for not pursuing the technology ourselves. They have agreed to expand cannon coverage for both Farber and Aspiracus. Your colony would be as protected as Kalmah. If, that is, you choose to remain a part of the Empire."

"With your own world, you would have the same level of autonomy as Erid," Hermione pointed out. "There are basic Imperial laws that you would have to adapt, but otherwise you would have the authority to pass any local laws and enforce those laws locally. You would have the authority to elect your own leadership and your own representatives to Parliament."

"You are not allowed to maintain a separate military," Harry said firmly. "Any who wish to serve must join the Imperial Defense Force. You, for instance, General, could easily find a place in the IDF, as would all of your uniformed people. And the timing would be good, as well."

"And why is that, Your Majesty?"

"Because, General," Hermione said, "the majority of your surviving people are in the hands of the System Lord Cronus. We're going to kill him, free those people, and take his worlds away from him. And if you say please, we'll let you join us."

Gaspar raised a ridge over his golden eyes. "Indeed?"

Harry nodded. "In return for your cooperation and the immediate surrender of all Hebridan military forces and assets, I guarantee you a blanket amnesty for all actions you and your people may have taken either against the Empire or the Thrones directly. Any military assets who wish to enlist with the Empire of Kheb may do so and retain their previous ranks. Including those men who attacked me and my adopted son personally. And we will allow you to hold a referendum vote for all registered Hebridan citizens as to whether they wish to colonize Aspiracus under an official Imperial Charter with immediate representation in Parliament. I will put this is writing with a Parliamentary ratification in ten days. As senior general, the authority to make this agreement rests solely with you."

Gaspar looked at Montrose. "And you, Captain? What do you make of this?"

"General, with all due respect, the people of Kheb never intended us harm. My wife is Mal Jaffa. In fact, I've learned that she was the very first Jaffa child treated on Hebridan. From that day forward, I believe our fates have been tied with the Empire. I've found my home here, but I do believe that we have an important role to play, and I believe it would be good to accept the offer just to have a voice in Parliament. The deal is legitimate, sir, and as a Hebridan I think we should accept it."

Gaspar nodded. "It is a momentous decision, and one we should not enter into recklessly. That said, we recognize that the President's attacks on your person were out of line, and your response beyond merciful. I and my staff will present ourselves at your palace for talks in ten day's time, as you indicated. And until that time, I offer my word that no Hebridan military asset will take any action against your Empire."

"Then we are agreed to meet again in ten days," Harry said. He stood, and by the sheer power of his presence, everyone else in the room stood as well. "I do hope you decide to join us, General. Because I like what you've done with this ship, and I think you would like my ideas on how to make it even more powerful."

With that, Harry and Hermione grabbed Captain Montrose's arms and the three once again disappeared.

"Sir, what are we going to do with the President?" one of the colonel's asked.

"What President?" Gaspar asked. "You heard the Emperor. President Muldon fought with his last breath for our people on Hebridan. The man we escorted out of this room was a Goa'uld imposter and will be dealt with accordingly. Dismissed, people."

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

Two years later, a young, unassuming couple stepped through the gate onto the newly renamed world of Hebrides. They stepped down in the midst of a supply convoy from Kalmah bringing lumber. No one noticed them, not even the customs station established within easy sight of the gate.

The two walked past the customs station hand in hand.

"You know what I love most?" Luna asked as she swung Harry's hand gaily.

"What's that?"

"They called it Hebrides!"

"Hermione said it was just a case of coincidence and linguistic drift. It just means 'New Hebridan'."

"I _know_ that, Harry. It makes me happy anyway. So, it's my birthday. What are you getting me?"

"How about a picnic in the mountains?" He pulled a shrunken picnic basket from the pocket of his slacks.

"That would by quite lovely."

Luna was forty-three years old—for the next few months she was the same age as Harry. She still looked nineteen, and after twenty seven years of marriage to Harry Potter, they didn't really bother with material gifts any more. Instead, each got whatever company they desired for the whole day, with no interruptions, wherever that might be. Hermione spent her last birthday with Harry at a remote island retreat they built on Kalhu.

Luna wanted to visit the planet named after (in her mind, at least) the island where her mother was born.

The official population of Hebrides currently sat at two million, but that population was growing as more and more Hebridans immigrated. The limiting factor was the planet itself. The former Aspiracus had been ill-used by the Goa'uld, and Governor Tsoli did not want more people arriving than they could reasonably feed.

That said, in the two years since the refugees of Hebridan ratified their entry into the Empire of Kheb in return for a protected world of their own, all trace of the old trade world had vanished. In the place of the rubble now rose a relatively small but immaculately clean town with paved streets and low buildings rarely rising above five levels.

The new residents came from a relatively small world completely covered by city scape. The majority felt some reticence facing the vast, open landscapes of a relatively empty planet, but others embraced the openness. Already, several communities had risen up along the ridge of the central continent's mountain range, each connected by mag-lev rails (though some were still under construction).

A few brave souls set out and established cooperative farms. Being in their hearts capitalists above all things, they sought to wean the burgeoning community off purchased food supplies from Kalmah. Working against them was the desolate nature of the world itself. While it had millennia to recover from the Goa'uld, their touch still lingered by the vast stretches of sterile, dead land.

The new residents fought this by introducing engineered microbes and Kalmah fertilizer to the soil, which in turn also introduced Kalmah insect life. In fact, most of the crops they tried to raise were Kalmah grains and the indefatigable tago beans, which seemed able to grow almost anywhere. Some farms did better, some struggled, but already the colony was producing its own food, where two years before hardly anything could grow at all.

The rail stop to the next community, Andoine, was an open platform with a few molded plastic-benches that looked as if they'd been recovered from Hebridan. Luna sat in one beside Harry, looking with interest at the small handful of people that gathered waiting.

The train car, when it came, arrived in a rush of cool air pushed by its swift passage. They boarded without having to provide any ID or payment and took a seat toward the back. As they car zoomed away from Gate Town, as it was now called, Luna pointed to a shimmer in the distance.

Harry leaned down to look out the window as a Hebridan freighter hovered off the distant spaceport pad and went into full burn as it sought to escape the atmosphere. "This car was recovered from Hebridan, you know," Luna said. "And a lot of the rail itself. They're trying to recycle as much from their home world as they can. I understand it's become a whole industry, scavenging the home world for useable items."

When the freighter disappeared, Luna snuggled into Harry's shoulder with a contented sigh. The Notice-me-not charm they wore was not powerful at all, designed more to keep anyone from recognizing them than not to notice them at all. Neither spoke, they simply sat in contented silence, watching as the empty lake-bed that housed Gate Town gave way to the foothills that led to the mountains.

It was only in the foothills that they started to see signs of natural life—tall, rugged grasses and a few squat, wind-swept trees. In the distance, the horizon seemed to stretch on forever under the pale blue sky.

The ride only took twenty minutes, but in that twenty minutes they travelled almost a hundred and twenty miles. The train's deceleration was offset in part by the gravity plates within the car itself, making the ride much smoother than would otherwise be the case. The two climbed off onto another open platform, changing places with the handful of people travelling onto the next community along the mountains.

Another train was going back to Gate Town.

The community of Andoine, like the other satellite communities, still had a lot of pre-fab construction. Old Hebridan military barracks were set up and partitioned for families. The essentials, however, were in place before the first permanent residents arrived. The streets were paved by construction drones, the sewer established in a set grid along set plans for future construction, and the first school was already built with students in class. Luna knew for a fact that some of the teachers were actually from Earth. One of the teachers was also a member of her Secret Police, but so far they had little negative to report.

The two walked hand-in-hand onto the trail that led into the mountains. Little occasional red kerchiefs marked where others had gone before, while yellow kerchiefs marked spots pervious climbers found dangerous. Though there were no large prey animals, the mountains themselves were young and rugged, and the locals had discovered an ant-like insect with a vicious sting.

Hiking for Force-sensitives was not the same thing as hiking for ordinary people. Whenever they got tired, they simply refreshed themselves with the Force and kept going. They hiked for hours on end as they let the cool, crisp air dry the sweat from their brows. They didn't bother talking, though occasionally one or the other would point something of interest out. When they reached a swift-moving mountain brook that would eventually drain into an underwater aquifer, they simply flew over it, hand in hand.

They reached the glade an hour before sunset and settled down at last to eat their picnic. Harry cast an insect-repelling ward while Luna cast a cushioning charm, and then Harry laid out the traditional picnic blanket. He unshrunk the basket and the two managed to remove from it a significant meal, still warm with the benefits of preservation charms, and a bottle of chilled wine from Kalmah's best vineyard. The fruit it was made of was closer in size and taste to plums than grapes, but the wine and brandy made from it was delicious.

They ate in silence, watching as the sun sank slowly toward the distant western horizon.

They made love, of course. Several times, in fact, and when they were both satiated Luna snuggled naked into Harry's side as the sun finally set and a glorious field of stars began to burn through the fading remnant of day. Hebrides had no moon, so the sky was utterly, perfectly open, the sole illumination coming from a distant but still brilliant nebula in the sky.

"Tel'gat's daughter is Force sensitive," Luna said as Harry started to drift into a contented sleep.

"What?"

"On her second birthday, I tested her, and she has the Force," Luna continued calmly. "She's not quite as strong as Daniel, but much more so than his sister was."

Harry hugged her shoulder. "Is that why you were so eager for them to marry? Tel'gat told me you'd said it was a good match."

"I wasn't entirely sure why the Force seemed to approve of the match, but I did have a suspicion."

They two laid in silence for the longest time, employing a patience that might have matched their chronological ages, but seemed odd to a couple that bore the faces of teenagers. Or, in Harry's case, a man in his very early twenties due to his most recent brush with death and Ascension. "Do you remember the vision I shared with you, of how the old Corusca galaxy died?"

He felt her hair rub against his shoulder as she nodded. "Jedi and Sith alike had fallen into darkness and became the First Enemy."

"They chose us because we would not have children. But with Daniel, and now Mione, is that still the case?"

Luna swung her leg over his until she straddled him, looking down at him intently. Under the starlight, she looked breathtaking and pure somehow, her skin almost blue from the distant nebula's light. "You could have children, you know. Hermione's and my immortality came with a price of our progeny. We paid with our future. But you…you paid your price with the blood of other men. You could have children, she just assumed you wouldn't because it would mean you were unfaithful."

"The only women I want are you and Hermione," he said. "And I don't need children. Any natural-born child of mind would almost certainly become a threat to me one day."

Luna frowned. "Harry, if we raise him right…"

"Luna, it's number 18 and 19 on the list."

"What list?"

"The bible of our regime. ' _I will not have a son. Although his laughably under-planned attempt to usurp power would easily fail, it would provide a fatal distraction at a crucial point in time. I will not have a daughter. She would be as beautiful as she was evil, but one look at the hero's rugged countenance and she'd betray her own father_.' I can't afford to have children."

Luna frowned. "Harry James Potter, are you, the Emperor of Kheb and Akai'kheb, quoting the Evil Overlord List to me?"

"Yes."

She stared at him, beautiful eyes wide, before she collapsed against his chest laughing. Of course, her laughing caused movement, and before long they were making love again, both of them laughing at the sheer absurdity of their lives. When finished, she stayed on him, her hands splayed across the muscles of his chest.

"You really are afraid of having children, aren't you?" she asked, smiling wistfully at him.

Sobering a little, he nodded. "The politics of dynasties has never been clean," he told her. "Brothers and sisters kill each other all the time. We're timeless, Luna. Any children I had would be forced to live their entire lives in our shadow. No matter how powerful they become, if they live even a fraction of our expected lifetimes, they won't be able to tolerate it any more. We're all shaped by our experiences. But a child of mine would be shaped by dynastic politics. I don't want to ever look across a field of battle into the eyes of my own son or daughter."

"Okay, love. I understand." She leaned down and gave him a passionate kiss before climbing to her feet. She cast cleaning charms on them both before she began to get dressed. He did the same, using magic to erase any sign of their presence. When they had everything back, the two moved to the edge of the glade and stared out over the small grid of lights in the far distance, only visible because of the lack of moonlight.

"Fly with me?" Harry asked.

"I thought you would never ask."

He gathered her in his arms and with a surge of magic rose into the air. They flew down from the mountain in a rush of cold evening air. Luna kept her arms around his shoulders but looked forward, her eyes shining with delight as they flew toward the distant Gate Town.

"Harry?" Luna called over the wind.

"What?"

"Tell me that you'll love me forever."

"I will love you forever, Luna. The stars alone know how long they'll last, but until they burn out, I will love you and Hermione both."

She kissed his cheek. "Good."

Although Harry could have flown faster than sound, he took his time, flying Luna under the starlight as they brought her birthday celebration to a close. Despite going so slow, all too soon they approached the city and the Stargate it held.

"Should we stop and pay our respects to Gaspar?" Luna asked.

"It's late, he's probably asleep," Harry guessed. "Besides, we need to start making preparations for the raid next month. I would love to be able to celebrate the colony's second anniversary by returning a few hundred thousand of their people from slavery."

"Yes, that would make a nice gift, I think."

The two settled down gently in front of the Stargate. Neither bothered with charms this time, and the poor customs official almost fell out of his seat when he saw two members of the Tripartite Throne alight from the air and start dialing Kalmah.

"Er, ma'am? Sir?" the guard asked as he emerged from his station.

"Oh, never mind us, Neirnin," Luna said with a brilliant smile. "My husband just took me for a picnic in the mountains. It was lovely. Have a good night."

The Stargate exploded into life. With a final wave from Luna, the Emperor and Vice Empress stepped through.

"How'd she know my name?" Neirnin wondered aloud.


	37. Heavy

A/N: Chap 36 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Part V: A Shattered Pantheon**

 **Chapter Thirty-Seven: Heavy**

The planet Parnas was quite possibly the most hellishly uncomfortable world Harry Potter had ever visited. The gravity was half again that of Kalmah, and the atmosphere so thick it felt as he were suffocating despite the fact the planet's atmosphere had a high oxygen mix. Worse yet was the overwhelming, lung-searing heat of the place.

No one would ever have come to the world willingly, and yet the world held a human population of almost two hundred thousand people. Most were human slaves forced to work in utterly inhumane conditions in the many mines which covered the metal-rich world. However, there were also at least five thousand Jaffa on the planet.

These Jaffa were why Harry landed a force of ten cloaked al'kesh on the planet's surface, each with a hundred Rangers and another four hundred regular army grunts.

And one twenty-two-year-old adopted prince of the realm.

"You know, all things considered, I think I would have rather stayed with Auntie Hermione," Daniel Jackson gasped. He was not alone—all Harry's soldiers, Rangers or infantry, had to fight hard to breathe and even move in the high-pressure, high gravity environment.

"Complaining is unbecoming, Daniel Jackson," General Teal'c said as he walked calmly down the ramp of the al'kesh.

"I'll let him slide today," Harry said. "Stars above, this is bad. How long do human slaves last on this world?"

"If Lord Cronus is in a fair mood, he rotates the workers out every two weeks. If he does not, they die within a month. Some survive, but most do not. My sources tell me that he has been rotating most of the Hebridan slaves every two to three weeks. He wishes them thoroughly broken, but not necessarily dead. They cost him too much in lost ships, and Ra did not compensate him."

"Well, we appreciate the ha'taks he donated to the Empire," Harry said dryly. He took a sip of water as he surveyed his soldiers, all of whom were dripping perspiration. "The conditions here are just as bad as you implied. Good thing we're not planning on staying long. Do you have the coordinates to meet your agents?"

"I do, Akai'kheb." Teal'c reached out his left hand and the mini-tablet he wore there. Harry duplicated the gesture, and in a second the two devices synced. "Alright. Let our people continue to acclimate and make sure everyone drinks lots of water. Don't hold back to preserve supplies, I can make more if necessary. Daniel, Squad Five, you're with me."

Daniel and the twenty Rangers selected for the mission fell in behind the Emperor as he started walking through the jagged rock formations toward the tiny mining settlement in the distance. It was easily a three mile walk through a treacherous landscape that not even Harry was looking forward to. However, they had to approach quietly. They were deep within System Lord territory, and not even Harry felt good about their chances if they were discovered too early.

Because of the heat and the heavy gravity, Harry set a much slower pace than he would have on Kalmah or his other worlds. Even so, Harry himself was drenched in sweat within minutes. He had to remind himself to look back and gauge his men. He could feel Daniel constantly restoring himself with the Force, but their Rangers did not have that option. They were physically tough men and women, but at the end of the day they were still just human.

He called a rest halt after the first mile. The rangers made no complaints as they sank tiredly to the ground. Their camouflage blended almost seamlessly with the near crystalline rock which dominated the planet and made it a treasure trove for its master, and a death trap for those forced to work it.

Five minutes later saw them all up and moving again over the ragged foothills toward the settlement. They did not enter, though. Instead, they made their way the far side of the reservoir that kept the workers alive. The small body of water was lined with squat, hardy trees that barely came past Harry's shoulders but whose wood was so dense it could rival steel.

"Take covering positions and settle in," Harry whispered. "Make sure to drink plenty of water."

The rangers parted ways and began to finding various hiding places to cover the reservoir. In just minutes, neither Harry nor Daniel could spot them with the naked eye, though of course both men could sense them in the Force.

"So, think this is a trap?" Daniel asked.

"Luna certainly thought so," Harry said. "Let's hope it is."

After half an hour, they spotted a single figure leaving the settlement. He wore loose white robes and a turban to protect his skin from the harsh white sunlight overhead. He walked slowly, prodding along with a staff to steady his steps around the small reservoir of water, until he approached close enough that Harry stepped out from behind the low-growing trees to face him.

The Jaffa, since Harry could clearly see the mark of Cronus on his forehead, stared with wide eyes before bowing low. "Akai'kheb," the Jaffa said. "I am called Teonac. I have answered your call, and wish to find freedom for my children after me."

"Teonac, welcome," Harry said as he approached the Jaffa. "You came alone?"

"I was the only one who could come unnoticed," the Jaffa said. "But I am not alone in my views. There are ten others among the hundred which guard this settlement which feel the same."

"And the slaves?"

Teonac pulled at his scraggly black beard. "It is difficult, Akai'kheb. Lord Cronus moves the slaves about constantly. He does this to keep them from planning rebellions. If I make any contact with a slave, the slave is gone days later."

Harry didn't try to hide his frown. For the past two years, since their spies discovered where most of the Hebridan slaves had been sent, he'd been trying to infiltrate the domain of the System Lord Cronus. The ancient Goa'uld had risen to become the second most powerful Goa'uld under Ra himself in the prolonged absence of Apophis, and as a result of his support in the attack on Hebridan had taken the majority of slaves.

As Harry considered this, Daniel asked the one question Harry should have, but didn't. "Teonac, we were told most of the slaves here were the ones captured two years ago on Hebridan. Have you seen many?"

Teonac looked in confusion from Harry to Daniel. "Akai'kheb, that is not true. I mean, well, some came, yes, but they died so quickly they never got any work done. They were too soft for this world. The first batch lasted less than a week before they died of illness or just weakness. I am told Lord Cronus considered killing them all, but he would have lost his investment. The slaves all work on Kenosis in the farm fields or the ship yards."

Daniel sensed the danger a split-second before Harry, but both men were moving before the staff cannon struck Teonac in the back and vaporized his chest in a shower of bloody mist. The report of the blast came seconds later, but by then more staff cannon blasts rained up from the settlement below, and from the ridges high above.

Harry cast a shield while Daniel knelt down and opened the dedicated ranger network. "They took the rangers out," he called dully over the roar of the staff cannons. "They must have been waiting before we even arrived, I'm not getting a single signal from our people. I think they're jamming us. Do we portkey?"

"None of this will work if Cronus thinks we have any chance of escaping," Harry said, gritting his teeth against the power of the coordinated assault. "We have to stay conventional. Get ready, I'm going to drop the shield in three."

 _One_. Daniel squatted down, one hand gripping his lightsaber while the other fingered one of the new blaster pistols Harry produced in cooperation with Lomet Defense Networks. He wore at his belt a Goa'uld-style personal shield that could only handle a few direct hits before its power failed.

 _Two._ Jaffa warriors—hundreds of them—began pouring from the ridges and rocks around them. Daniel couldn't understand why they couldn't sense them in the Force.

"Three!" Harry let the shield drop. Daniel was already moving before it even fell, but even with the Force it felt like he was moving through honey with the heavy gravity and sickeningly thick atmosphere.

Harry ran beside him, now using his twin sabers to bat away the staff weapon bolts as best he could. The staff cannons were more troublesome, but even those Harry managed either to bat away with his sabers, or block with his magic.

"There's naquedah everywhere!" Harry said. "It's interfering with our Force senses."

 _That would explain it,_ Daniel thought. It was, in fact, the perfectly staged ambush. Cronus must have staged the intelligence for months, using unwittingly genuine Jaffa like Teonac.

The time for thinking was over—they'd reached the first line of Jaffa. It was a mark of the severity of their situation that Harry did not hold back at all. Force-lightning flayed the first line of men while Daniel spun with saber and pistol both flaring. He took his shots almost at point-blank range, ensuring each of the fifty shots counted.

Harry didn't bother using the pistol he also carried, but only because his native power was more destructive. Daniel's Force abilities let him deflect fire and move faster, but in Harry the Force and magic combined with frightening effectiveness. Jaffa cried out in alarm as they were flung bodily out of Harry's path, or used as clubs to strike other Jaffa from Daniel's path.

Even as destructive as he was, though, Daniel knew Harry was not even using the full scope of his abilities. Neither man could afford to let the Jaffa think they had no chance.

The two of them broke through the Jaffa line and ran as fast as they could through the heavy gravity and treacherous, jagged rock structures back toward the waiting al'kesh. However, as they ran, they were struck by a sight that would leave almost anyone in awe.

Not one, but five ha'taks loomed down through the thick atmosphere, causing waves of heated air to shimmer around him in puffs of vapor. "Okay, that's not good," Harry muttered. "Try the Tollan channel."

Neither man stopped moving as Daniel checked his wrist pad. "I got through, but text only. Teal'c says the al'kesh have all been destroyed. The men have taken shelter in an old mine cave. The orbital drone reports there are almost eighty more ha'tak in orbit with more coming."

"Damn. Now it's time to cheat."

Daniel merely nodded as Harry grabbed him and the two apparated to the field where they first landed. He immediately disillusioned them both when they found themselves behind a line of Jaffa soldiers who were setting up a firing line facing a distant mine entrance. A second line-of-site apparation took he and Daniel within the mouth of the mine. "Rangers, it's the Akai'kheb," Harry said a second before he dropped his _disillusionment_.

The handful of rangers sheltering within the shadow of the mine entrance nodded greeting. "Teal'c?" Harry asked.

"Further inside, Akai'kheb," one of the rangers said.

Harry nodded and walked back, passing by two long lines of soldiers waiting to hold off any concerted attacks. As he moved, Harry could not help but notice shield generators lining the hall, most likely taken from the al'kesh themselves.

He found Teal'c in an open dome from which several more mine passages branched out. "General," Harry said.

"Akai'kheb." Teal'c nodded in greeting. "Daniel Jackson," he added. "The situation is grave. Lord Cronus has landed over fifty thousand Jaffa, we now have less than two thousand. Additionally, there are now over one hundred ha'taks in orbit."

Harry nodded as he looked at the computer table the general had hastily set up. "So, it's pretty much everything we were hoping for."

"And a little more on top of that," Daniel added wryly.

"Indeed. I have signaled the Lady Hermione that the main attack is ready to proceed."

Harry nodded. "A trap within a trap. Let's just hope we can survive it."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Lord Cronus, System Lord, God-King of Knosis, Parnas and twenty other worlds besides, Second only to Supreme Lord Ra himself, sat with a satisfied smile in the pel'tak of his mothership while looking down at his most mineral-rich mining world.

Parnas was the gift Ra gave him in order to win the support of his fleet against Hebridan. It was a well-earned gift, seeing that he lost twenty of his personal ha'taks, ten thousand Jaffa and a vassal in Ramius. The price he paid in materiel and the blood of his people was worth it, though. Parnas had more mineral wealth than all the rest of his worlds combined, and just in the past two years he had mined more than enough to begin construction on new ha'taks.

Each System Lord claimed a garden world as their home sanctuary. Some claimed several, but even those whose dominion spanned hundreds of worlds, there was still one world they called their home. For Cronus that world was Knosis.

Like all System Lords, Cronus kept his planet well defended. Even after the losses he suffered in support of Ra's invasion of Hebridan, Cronus claimed a fleet of almost one hundred and fifty ha'taks and a standing army of over two million Jaffa. On any given day, almost all of those ha'taks and soldiers were on Knosis, ensuring the safety of Lord Cronus against his many, many enemies.

Within weeks following the fall of the hated Hebridan, however, Cronus's many spies became aware of unknown Jaffa bearing his mark circulating among some of his worlds asking about where the hundreds of thousands of Hebridan slaves went. Cronus was no fool—like all the System Lords he had heard about the heresy of the Akai'kheb. Every System Lord from Svarog to Ba'al knew that whoever handed the Akai'kheb's head to Ra would be flooded with untold riches and naquedah.

And so Cronus began a game of his own. The Hebridan slaves were far too weak physically to place on Parnas—not if he had any expectation of them actually working for more than a week before they died. No, instead he cycled his other human slaves through the planet, using those humans more accustomed to long-term physical labor. The Hebridans he used in more skilled positions, crafting new staff weapons or working in the shipyards. Those without such skills he sent to the farms.

He made sure his agents let slip to the Akai'kheb's many spies that the Hebridans were toiling under the harsh conditions of Parnas. After that, it was only a matter of time. Until Lord Ra devised a means of circumventing the blasted ion cannons the heretics somehow obtained from the Tollan home world, the only way to capture them was to lure them out from behind their protectors. And Cronus knew from his own spies that the Akai'kheb considered himself a protector both of the _shol'va_ Jaffa, and of humans. He cast his web wide and sure, and waited for the so-called Bridge Unto Heaven to stumble blindly into it.

"My lord, Lady Enyo has reported from the surface. They destroyed several cloaked al'kesh and now have the enemy trapped in a mine system," Cronus' prime reported from a bent knee. "We came across a single ha'tak in orbit and destroyed it easily. We have them, my lord!"

"How many?"

"Lady Enyo reported there were thousands, my lord!" the Prime said with an eager glint of bloodlust Cronus appreciated. "They are cut off from the _Chappa'ai_ and they have no ships to rescue them. Even if they came with every ship the heretics possessed, we would easily outnumber them."

"Begin landing more Jaffa," Cronus said. "We will sweep them from the mines. The Akai'kheb's head will be my pride, and any Jaffa who brings me that head will want for nothing for the remainder of their lives."

"So be it, my lord!" the Prime said before he stood and walked back to his station to send the orders. Cronus sat with the patience of a god, watching with a deep sense of satisfaction as his ships began ringing and shuttling Jaffa down. He had no doubt it would be a hard-fought victory, and he would lose many men. For all his heresy, the Akai'kheb had real power. It was that power which kept Cronus in orbit. What good was there to being a god if he were to die at the hands of a mere heretic?

Of course, moving a million Jaffa to a planet's surface was a time-consuming process. They were well into their third hour of deployment when his Prime called out in horror, "My Lord! My honored God, we are betrayed!"

Cronus stood, alarmed by his Prime's unusual outburst. "What is this madness you say?"

The Prime turned and did not just kneel, he prostrated himself on the floor before the increasingly concerned Goa'uld. "My Lord, we have just received an emergency signal from Knosis. The forces of the Akai'kheb have attacked in numbers our remaining ships cannot withstand. Knosis is going to fall!"

Cronus frowned. "How can this be? The Akai'kheb is here. Our own trusted spies sighted him in person, and our own Jaffa saw him enter the caves like the worm he is. How can he be attacking Knosis?"

"Our men had no answers, my lord!" The Prime, with good reason, expected his life to be forfeit. While Cronus was not averse to punishing failure with death, he did not have time to train a new Prime while in the middle of combat. There would be plenty of time to identify where the failures were and punish those responsible.

The problem, of course, was that even at best speed Knosis was two days away. "We cannot let the Akai'kheb escape," Cronus said. "Stand and prepare to fight. If I find you responsible, you will die when your duties are complete. Until then, you are to transfer to another ship and lead fifty ha'tak back to Knosis and destroy the invaders at all cost."

The prime climbed back to his feet and bowed from his waist. "I thank you for your mercy, Lord Cronus. I shall have victory or death!" With that, the Prime swept from the _pel'tac_ of the ship in a trot toward the ring room.

Cronus himself returned to his throne, frowning as he tried to understand who the Akai'kheb would trust enough to invade a Goa'uld homeworld in his stead.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Hermione Potter, Blessed _Anu_ of Eridu, Vice Empress of Kheb and Companion of the Akai'kheb, hugged her arms over her chest as the world of Knosis rushed into view. The "token" force of just forty ha'taks orbited the world at strategic points around the world.

In front of her, seated at the controls of the cloaked al'kesh, a pair of experienced Rangers flew with a calm, professional assurance. Both were with her on Hebridan when she went to the surface to save survivors. The two Mal Jaffa held a special respect for the people of Hebridan, being among the first after Tel'gat to receive the retrovirus that changed them forever from Jaffa to Mal Jaffa.

Hermione closed her eyes and sank deeply into the Force. She reached out her senses to the various ha'taks and the people aboard them. Despite her overriding worry for her husband, who knowingly walked into Cronus's trap, she couldn't help but smile. The System Lord was so intent on capturing the akai'kheb that he left his remaining ha'taks half-staffed at best, and in some cases running on nothing but a spare skeleton crew.

"Dan'tl, I need tactical, please," she said softly, still sunk deeply in the Force.

The co-pilot rose without comment to make room for her. She sat and began marking those enemy ha'taks with the smallest crews. "General An'hur," she said aloud using the Tollan communication devices.

The quantum entanglement the devices used was not traceable, and provided instantaneous communication regardless of any Goa'uld jamming attempts. It was an absolute coup that Luna and Daniel were able to negotiate the purchase of just twenty of them from the Tollan, since the technology behind them was decades beyond even the Hebridan's best science.

"My lady," came the immediately response, even more clear than if he stood right beside her.

"I'm sending priority targets for boarding. I sense these ships are the most lightly staffed. Have the fleet stand by for the final signal."

"Yes, Lady. Today, my lady, the Goa'uld will tremble in fear."

"At least one, to be sure," Hermione said. "The stars are with us, my friend. Send in the boarding parties."

"They are on their way, my lady."

She closed the connection and stood so Dan'tl could resume his seat. "Our target is marked as well," she noted with forced calm. "We are taking the most heavily staffed ship. I sense it is the one in overall command."

"That's good," Shor'yl said from the pilot's seat. She grinned over her shoulder at Hermione. "Who wants water-runs when we can have a true contest?"

"Exactly," Hermione said with a laugh. She patted the younger woman's shoulder before making her way back to the hold. She could not go very far, though. The room was packed to standing room only with five hundred Rangers and veteran soldiers selected because of their experience in boarding exercises.

"Is everyone comfortable?" Hermione asked. With magic her voice easily reached everyone in the room and elicited hushed laughter.

When the laughter died down, she continued. "We are heading toward the most heavily manned ship in orbit. These boarding strikes must work. Even with two thirds of Cronus' fleet chasing after the Akai'kheb, the remaining ships still outnumber us. If we are to free our brothers and sisters below, we must take as many of the ships as we can before the fleet strikes. I've chosen the hardest target for ourselves. I do this because you are the best, and with you at my back there is nothing we cannot overcome. So get ready. Blue squad, we will teleport directly to the pel'tak. Have your weapons ready to fire immediately."

There was no roar of approval—space was too tight for anyone to want to waste energy yelling. Instead, Hermione removed the rope that would serve as the portkey for the twenty rangers she would take with her directly to the pel'tak.

She made her way back to the bridge, stepping over stacks of additional supplies and boxes of ammunition and grenades. Most of the soldiers still carried carbines or zat guns, but the officers now carried Harry's blaster pistols for their sheer destructive power.

As she made it to the cockpit, she could see their selected ha'tak looming uncomfortably close. Even after decades of living in space, it still gave Hermione a thrill down her spine to see the sheer size of the Goa'uld ships. "Their shields are still down," Dan'tl said. He spoke softly, as if afraid the enemy might hear them.

"That will only last until the first of our people steps out of a cloaked al'kesh," Hermione said. She checked her wrist pad that housed the Tollan communicator. They could not afford to risk open communications through normal channels. Every pilot of the ten cloaked al'kesh they had was on the same entanglement beam as her, and each was timing the insertion of their selected ship to precisely coincide with hers. The Goa'uld sensors could not detect their own cloaks in space, but once within the confines of the ha'tak itself, they would be able to detect the sudden displacement of that much air.

"All ships are aligned," Hermione whispered. She wished, more than anything, that Harry were with her. This was not her first time leading troops in battle by herself, but she always felt better when Harry was nearby. However, the plan this time would not allow it, and too many people were counting on her for her to engage in any second thoughts.

She tapped her pad and sent the signal to all ten ships. All ten cloaked al'kesh, hers included, began to move forward with a synchronicity they had rehearsed for days leading up to the final assault. As soon as they were moving, Hermione ran back to the line of waiting soldiers. She grabbed the rope from the stack of supplies. "Blue squad, grab a hold!" she shouted as she tossed them the rope.

The twenty rangers quickly snaked the rope through their squad while Hermione retained the end. She held the rope with her free hand while keeping her kara'kesh ready.

"We're in!" Shor'yl shouted from the cockpit. "They've activated their alarms, Jaffa are on their way."

"For Hebridan!" Hermione shouted.

The main ramp of the al'kesh opened and the soldiers of Kheb poured out, while Hermione touched her hand-device to the rope and said, "Portus."

The battle of Knosis, the first large-scale engagement of the Empire of Kheb against the System Lords, had begun.


	38. Against Ra

A/N: Chap 37 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Eight: Against Ra**

"Everyone down!" Harry shouted in Khebbish.

Teal'c's men hit the ground of the tunnel just as Harry sent a stream of fire into the front lines of the attacking Jaffa. It was not fiendfyre—not even Harry could risk using demonic, semi-sentient fire in a small, enclosed space with his men. However, with his magic the fire was stronger than anything Albus Dumbledore or even Voldemort could have managed—at least before Voldemort discovered the _Sed_ ritual.

The stream of fire scorched not just the front line of Jaffa, but the next five lines behind them, melting their facemasks and blinding them completely. One of their staff weapons exploded from the heat toward the rear of the formation. The whole tunnel shook and a few rocks fell from the ceiling, but the rock of the mine walls was so dense and strong it withstood the blast.

"Clear, push them back!" Harry ordered.

Soldiers clambered back to their feet, struggling against the brutal gravity, and fired point-blank at the latest Jaffa encroachment on his forces within the cavern. It was still the first day of the siege, but Cronus was not waiting around. The only reason Harry's forces had not been overrun yet by sheer numbers was the mine tunnels themselves. Cronus's Jaffa could not flank Harry's position or come in huge numbers, rendering every single engagement equal in initial numbers.

The state of affairs, however, could not go on forever. Despite all the supplies they brought with them, they would run out of bullets within three more days at the rate of attrition they were experiencing. That didn't even speak to the losses of personnel. They'd lost over four hundred men in the first five hours of the engagement, and that number would have been significantly larger if not for Harry and the ward stones he'd used to secure four of the six tunnels that intersected their dome. With only two tunnels to defend, they were able to hold their own for the time being.

When he was sure his men had re-established a defensive position with sufficient heavy weapons to hold for a while, he made his way back to the impromptu headquarters. He passed by men sagging exhaustedly against the walls, resting between rotations at the front. With each he passed, Harry made sure to look them in the eyes and nod, stopping occasionally to help where he could.

By the time he reached Teal'c, the whole mountain was shaking again from orbital bombardment. "Akai'kheb," the Jaffa general greeted him. "A new casualty report arrived from the southwest tunnel. The line held, but we lost another fifty men."

Harry could only nod grimly as he surveyed their losses. "General, I think we've accomplished all we can here," he said.

"I agree, Akai'kheb. However, the evacuation will be difficult even with your magic. Lord Cronus undoubtedly has the gate guarded with fixed emplacements and staff cannon towers. Nor would it surprise me if there are ha'taks and al'kesh standing by in the event we broke free. We still have a hard fight ahead of us."

"All the more reason to go while we can," Harry said.

"Akai'kheb! General Teal'c, there are sounds coming from the stone!"

"Bugger me," Harry muttered. "They must be drilling through the walls. Show me where, soldier!"

Teal'c followed. "Soldiers, form up, we may have a breach!" Teal'c called. Despite their exhaustion, the heavy gravity and the sweltering air in the cavern, men and women scrambled to their feet and readied their weapon. They reached the far wall of the central cavern—a point well away from the other tunnel junctions and the precious naquedah ore they followed. As they approached, Harry could also hear the sound—an odd, grinding noise with almost crystalline tinkles strewn through it.

Moreover, he could feel _something_ moving within the rock. "Back away!" Harry called. When the men were far enough away, he started casting his most powerful wards and protective spells, hoping to buy his men enough time to hold back the assault while he prepared the portkeys. The only reason he didn't have the portkeys ready ahead of time was that the magic became unpredictable when moved to a world other than where it was cast.

"Firing line, ready!" Teal'c snapped.

Khebbish soldiers, an even mix of Eridu, Byrsa, Mal Jaffa and even several Hebridans, formed into firing lines, one line standing over the first which knelt down, each ready to lay down a withering amount of fire on whatever was about to break through the wall.

Daniel chose that moment to run into the junction area from the second unwarded tunnel he'd been defending. "What's happening?"

"Wall breach," Harry said tersely. "Get ready!"

They waited in tense silence as the grinding, tinkling sound grew closer. When the wall breach hit, however, it was nothing like what Harry expected. Instead of the tip of a drill or the flash of a mining laser, the wall instead seemed almost to melt away, exposing an oddly textured passageway of what looked almost like gray-blue crystals.

Standing in the middle of the opening, looking alarmingly attractive in a way-too-short pleated, gold-armored skirt, exquisitely molded breastplate and a golden diadem, stood a Goa'uld woman. Dark eyes set under rich black hair in an oval face regarded them all coolly.

"I am Enyo," she said before even Harry could think of any action to take. "I seek words with the one who calls himself Akai'kheb."

Harry, Teal'c and Daniel shared a long, confused look before Harry rose from his fighting stance and walked to the edge of his hastily conjured wardline. "I am the Akai'kheb."

"I greet you," she said with grave formality and a stiff nod. "Know that Lord Cronus has positioned thirty thousand Jaffa around the stargate, with staff cannon placements in such numbers that even Ra himself with all his armies would have difficulty reaching it. Additionally, he has two cloaked al'kesh hovering over the gate at all times, and five ha'tak in orbit with orders to destroy the gate rather than allow it to open. With your ships destroyed, there is no escape."

"I'm sure I'd have found a way," Harry said calmly.

She stared at him for a long moment before giving him a wholly un-Goa'uld like smile. "Perhaps you would have, Akai'kheb. My people have been watching you for many years now, debating whether to make contact or not. We believed it pointless to assist when we learned of your plans to attack Parnas. That is, until we saw the true target of your attack. Lord Cronus has sent ships back to Knosis, but despite that, he will not be in time to stop your plan, will he?"

"No," Harry said, finding no reason to lie given the plan was already well under way.

"Your target was always Knosis. Presumably to save the Hebridan people from slavery. A noble act for a noble leader." She glanced at Teal'c. "Your ability to recruit Jaffa, and your willingness to free them from their slavery, is in large part why I stand before you now. Your willingness to sacrifice to save greater numbers is the other. I am Enyo, but I am not Goa'uld. I am Tok'ra, and I have come to offer you and your men a way off this world."

Harry frowned, unfamiliar with the team. Beside him, Teal'c stiffened. "Akai'kheb, the Jaffa have heard of the Tok'ra. They are Goa'uld who opposed the ways of the System Lords."

Enyo shook her head emphatically. "I share nothing with the Goa'uld but biology. I am Tok'ra. I share this body with my host, Eredeth, who volunteered to accept me. The Tok'ra do not believe in taking unwilling hosts, and we oppose the Goa'uld in any way we can."

Harry knew she spoke the truth because he could feel the very human consciousness within the woman, watching, listening and quietly adding her own thoughts to that of the much older being within her. The effect was wildly disconcerting to Harry, facing a single face with two distinct personalities. "You're not doing that good a job of resisting the Goa'uld," he said at last.

"We are few," Enyo admitted. "Our queen was caught by Ra, stopping our numbers from increasing. The other System Lords all sent Ashraks after us until we were forced to flee. Since then, we have fought as we could using subterfuge."

Harry looked at his adopted son. Daniel shrugged. "I've got nothing," the young man said. "I can tell she's telling the truth. Eredeth thinks I'm cute. Beyond that, I'm just don't know."

For the first time Enyo's demeanor cracked. Teal'c, however, merely nodded. "Indeed, Daniel Jackson, my daughters agree that you are very cute."

"How could you possibly have heard Eredeth?" Enyo asked, astonished.

"Because he's telepathic," Harry said. "What's your plan?"

Enyo gathered her wits quickly, which Harry admired. "I have a group of Tok'ra agents who have assisted me in tunneling through the mountain to a clearing where six cloaked al'kesh wait. It will be a tight fit, but it should be enough to carry away your surviving men."

Harry rubbed his jaw. "Right. Fine. Teal'c, begin evacuation procedures while I lay down the last two ward stones. Daniel, I want you leading the way. I'll bring up the rear. Enyo, one word of warning. If you betray us, I can make your death last for years. I won't need a sarcophagus to keep you alive, my wives can do it with their very blood."

The Tok'ra blinked in surprise once again, but quickly regained her composure. "My own life is as in jeopardy as yours is, Akai'kheb. If my treason is discovered, even your threat would pale to my fate at the hands of Lord Ra."

"Then I guess you're coming with us," Harry said. "Teal'c, let's get the men moving."

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

Hermione ducked instinctively as the Goa'uld death glider spiraled into a row of slave tenements she'd just evacuated. Overhead, the last remnants of Cronus planetary defense struggled in vain against the one area that the Khebbish attackers had a clear advantage in from the very beginning—air and space superiority fighters.

Around her, terrified slaves tried to run harder toward the Khebbish beachhead in the center of the capital city of Knosis, and the friendly Ha'tak which rose in the middle of it laying down suppression fire against the Jaffa. Their progress was impeded by the sheer volume of their numbers and the ground combat that still raged around them.

The battle for orbital supremacy had gone as well as they could have hoped. Of their ten boarding parties against Cronus' ha'taks, seven had managed to take control of their targeted ships, while the loyalist Jaffa self-destructed the other three to keep them from falling into enemy hands. When the main elements of the Imperial navy struck, it was to find seven ships on their side against the remaining thirty three that defended the planet.

General An'hur conducted the space battle while Hermione watched nervously from the throne of her stolen ha'tak. The two sides were perilously even in numbers of capital ships. The Khebbish navy consisted of six hat'aks stolen from Cronus and, before him, Tilgath. Added to that were the five Hebridan carrier cruisers, each previously disguised as ocean-liners, but which were in reality capable frigate-sized destroyers. Rounding out the fleet were the newest additions, a dream project of Harry's that he was only able to fully pursue when he was able to obtain a staff of Hebridan-trained engineers.

The first six Khebbish star destroyers looked similar to their cousins from the most ancient Corusca galaxy that they were named for in that they had a diamond-dagger shape, but with several notable changes. For one, they were smaller—only a thousand meters long. Rather than a high-mounted conning tower, the dagger-like ship's dorsal line rose steadily to form a heavily armored single crest, making it look almost like a rearward shark's fin, but one which had a good view of the dorsal landing bay that bisected the heavily shielded, outer hull of the ship.

The ships bristled with turbolaser cannons and missile pods, but it was a Goa'uld-style hyperdrive that wrestled it between the stars, Goa'uld-style shields that protected it, and a powerful series of fusion generators that propelled it in sublight. The six ships were built all at the same time in the ship yards Harry constructed in the Kalmah System's asteroid belt and combined all the best elements of Hebridan, ancient Coruscanti and Goa'uld technology in a lethal mix.

Even with the seven ships Hermione stole, however, that put their total capital-ship count at twenty-six ships against a defending fleet of over thirty three defenders.

The difference in relative strength, however, evaporated when the Imperial navy disgorged its cargo.

Hebridan space interceptors launched from the Hebridan cruisers, but from the Khebbish ha'taks and star destroyers came swarms of fighters, hundreds of them. Some were the first generation Headhunters that provided the Empire's first air/space defense vehicles. The rest, however, were the newer fighters and Harry's absolute pride.

Swarms of X-wing fighters closed in on those ha'taks not engaged in combat with Khebbish capital ships. They were not a perfect copy of the Coruscanti ship made so famous in its galactic civil war that Harry used to tell her about. The fuselage was shorter and the wings not quite as long, and all four wings were swept forward to mount the Goa-uld staff cannons each sported.

The Tollan Treaty forbade the Empire from developing ion weaponry or using existing Tollan ion weaponry in an offensive capacity. So instead, one fighter from each squadron carried a single hyper-drive capable naquedah-enhanced nuclear missile. The missiles were, by themselves, more expensive than the fighters that carried them.

Hermione watched with satisfaction as the first missile launched into hyperspace and appeared a split second later inside an enemy ha'tak's shield, having bypassed the enemy craft's defenses entirely with the Hebridan-designed AI guidance system. The explosion did not destroy the ha'tak entirely—Goa'uld ships were astonishingly resilient. However, it caused the shield to ripple and fail. Fighters swarmed in for the kill while other squadrons looked for new targets.

General An'hur's deployment was text-book perfect, easily overwhelming the defending ships despite what should have been even or even superior numbers. He directed his own capital ships to concentrate fire sufficiently to overcome individual target shields, often times allowing other enemy ships to get in their own shots before they too were targeted.

The battle in orbit raged for nearly thirty minutes, primarily because the enemy ha'taks refused to surrender or withdrawal. The battle would only end with their utter destruction. They exacted a heavy price, though. The Empire lost three of its own ha'taks, one of its new star destroyers and one of the Hebridan cruisers.

As soon as the fleet was assured they would not be bombed from orbit, Hermione led their landing forces. The stolen ha'taks came down first, while the remaining Hebridan ships followed. They carried between them the single largest deployment of Khebbish soldiers ever assembled in what was the single most risky operation.

They immediately started taking fire from the surface, Hermione noted. The Goa'uld lacked ion cannons, but staff cannons came in many sizes and power settings, and the planetary cannons Cronus constructed rocked Hermione's ha'tak violently when they were hit.

X-wings and the bulkier atmospheric Khebbish gunships immediately descended on the towers, while her own ship began targeting known Jaffa strongholds throughout Cronai, the capital city and the largest population center.

The hard part of the battle, however, was just beginning. They were looking for an unknown number of slaves, likely in the hundreds of thousands, out of a population of several hundred million. They had two days to save as many as they could. In ordinary circumstances, it would have been an impossible task.

Fortunately, neither she nor her spouses ever believed in ordinary circumstances.

"Signals are coming in, Blessed One," the Eridu pilot of her ha'tak said with an exultant smile. "Thousands of them!"

"Chose a point equidistant from as many signals as you can find and put us down," Hermione ordered. She tapped one of the many com channels on the arm of her throne. "Landing shortly. Prepare to disembark." She stood and addressed the Eridu man, a former Protector and veteran soldier of the Empire. "Major, you're in command of the ship."

"Yes, Blessed One," he said with a nod as she stood and left the pel'tak.

The moment the ship sat down, they came under withering fire from Jaffa soldiers. What followed was the most intense ground combat Hermione had ever experienced. She employed every aspect of magic and the Force she could, leading her soldiers from the front in armor charmed so heavily she took three direct staff blasts before she even noticed. The gun ships swooped in whenever they got bogged down and pummeled Jaffa strong points. The Hebridan-designed gunships reminded Hermione a little of Earth helicopters in that they vaguely resembled dragon-flies. However, the fact that they could be deployed from and return to orbit put them light years ahead of their Earth counterpoints.

They finally established a perimeter within which they could move with relative safety, and that's when Hermione led rangers in sorties into the city to recover the slaves. She knew that ha'taks and other Khebbish capital ships had landed in every city on the planet and were doing the same. They had less than two days to recover as many slaves as possible before Cronus' forces arrived.

The slaves came in groups of a few hundred each, led either by Khebbish Jaffa agents or those Jaffa of Cronus they were able to convert to their cause over the course of their two year spying campaign. With the Hebridans came the families of their supporting Jaffa, seeking the freedom that only the Empire of Kheb could provide.

Hermione knew very well that there were likely spies of Cronus among them, but there was little she could do about it. They would process the survivors once they reached safety.

 _If they reached safety._

She reached the security perimeter with her latest group of rescued slaves and stood by on guard as Khebbish soldiers waved them toward the waiting ha'tak. Once they were in, she made her way toward the forward firebase where she found Colonel Isral Jaxton, former commander of the Hebridan defense force and now a ranking officer of the Imperial Defense Force, coordinating sorties.

He looked exhausted as she walked into the tent that housed their communications and command equipment. Even as tired as he was, though, he stood over a holographic display table with a real-time display of the city from the drones overhead pointing out where to send the next sorties.

"Colonel," she said in greetings when he finished.

"Ma'am," he responded with a tired nod. In the field, in combat situations, titles and formality seemed silly to Hermione. "We've recovered five thousand Hebridans and another four hundred Jaffa."

She couldn't help her frown. "What about planet-wide?"

"Early reports have us at seventy thousand so far. We've captured the planetary gate and are evacuating as many people through it as possible in order to prevent Cronus from sending ground reinforcements."

They were in their eighth hour of the invasion; she'd hoped for a lot more than that by this time. They had an estimated thirty more hours before they had to withdraw or face prepared, superior attacking forces.

Jaxton noted her frown and with a swipe of his hand changed the display to a simple Mercator projection of the planet. Red dots covered every single continent, causing the colonel to sigh. "The slaves were spread out over the whole planet. Cronus was careful not to allow any large population groupings, seeding them through his existing populations. And while some of the locals are not resisting, he is their God and they're not keen on helping us either. Add to that a complete absence of mass transit and the sheer number of Jaffa fighting us, and it's been slow going."

"You've distribute the pamphlets?"

"Planet-wide. That's likely why we have as many people as we do." With a few taps on the table's keyboard he brought up a different set of dots, this time blue and in far, far fewer numbers. "We have teams of al'kesh and gunships scouring the planet to pick up isolated pockets. Some are coming under fire, and often times they're only picking up a dozen at a time. It's going to take time, ma'am."

Hermione hugged her arms over her chest. Their spies estimated that Cronus had captured almost twenty million Hebridan slaves. In the first eight hours of their forty-hour mission, they'd recovered less than one-twentieth of them. "At this rate, we're not going to be able to get them all."

"Ma'am, at this rate we'll be lucky to recover even a quarter, and we are taking losses. We have a casualty rate of ten percent so far."

She didn't bother to hide her wince at the percentage, which translated to many thousands of men. "We've got to make this worth it, for their sake's," she said.

"And we will, ma'am," Jaxton promised.

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

Harry liked to think he was not an easy man to shake or disturb. While he may have looked like he was in his early twenties after his near ascension, he was in fact forty-three years old. He wasn't the young, aggressive bull who took on and beat OPEC both commercially and militarily. He was the ruler of an empire than spanned several worlds with a population fast approaching a billion human beings.

Being around the Tok'ra, however, disturbed the hell out of him.

The hosts talked to their symbiotes all the time, and perhaps because of the nature of their joining, they projected those thoughts out almost as if they were screaming. So Harry, walking in their midst, felt as if he were caught in the center of a shouting match.

He knew that Daniel, who was in his way even more sensitive to the nuances of the Force than he was, must have been suffering even more.

It did not help that Enyo and her host Eredeth kept talking about Daniel's ass.

She'd stayed with Harry and let her fellow Tok'ra take the lead with Daniel as they evacuated the caves. Harry's ward stones and a few holographic projectors and automated weaponry would hopefully convince Cronus' people that they were still trapped. The fact that somehow Enyo was able to close the escape path behind them would leave the System Lord wondering where they were and how they escaped.

"This technology is amazing," Harry noted, desperate to distract the Tok'ra spy from her and her host's continuing analysis of his adopted son's backside. "Did the Tok'ra develop it?"

"While I am loathe to admit it, in technology were are similar to the Goa'uld," Enyo said as they walked at a quick pace through the tunnel behind Harry's surviving soldiers. "We discovered it many hundreds of years ago and learned to recreate the technology. But we did not develop it ourselves. We have made sure to keep it from the Goa'uld, of course."

"Of course."

Lighting came from the crystals themselves, which also provided an interesting reverberation of sound. The heavy breathing and tramping of thousands of soldiers moving at a steady job made the passageway thrum loudly, forcing the two to speak over it.

"So what do the Tok'ra wish to accomplish by helping me?" Harry asked.

"An Alliance, of course," Enyo said with a wry smile. "As you noted, our own fights against the Goa'uld have been less than effective. We may gain some small victories, but in truth we've been limited in what we do not so much by our abilities, but by not having a clear mission. Who were we to save? All humans and Jaffa were slaves. There were a few free worlds, but they knew better than to fight the System Lords, so there was no point in trying to form an Alliance."

"And what would you bring to such an Alliance?" Harry asked bluntly.

"At the moment, an escape route," Enyo said with a knowing smile.

He could help but grin back. "Granted."

"We bring an intelligence network second to none," she continued more seriously. "There are Tok'ra agents seeded throughout the System Lords. Though we adamantly refused to consider ourselves Goa'uld, biologically we are the same. That means the System Lords cannot tell us from themselves except under torture. Our agents have learned to hide very well."

Harry considered his own intelligence network, run primarily by Luna. She did not like to consider the fact that she was the head of the Empire's secret police and intelligence division, but really there was no other name for it, and she was very good at being sneaky. They had agents in several System Lord worlds, but their influence was limited to the Jaffa and human slaves alone. There were some levels of governance only Goa'uld could penetrate.

Or, it seems, Tok'ra.

"Then it seems we have a lot to talk about when we get back to Kalmah," he said, decision made.

"Indeed," Enyo agreed, being smart enough herself to recognize that he had accepted her offer in all but form.

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

"Sensor buoys report hyperspace eddies five hours away," Jaxton reported as he joined Hermione not at the forward air base but along the base of a shallow canyon that ran through one of the major agricultural areas of the planet. "Majesty, we're out of time."

Hermione didn't answer immediately, though she knew time was of the essence. Instead, she merely stood and looked down into the shallow canyon and the bodies that filled it. Bodies by the hundreds of thousands filled the crevice like a dam of rotting, stinking flesh, extending for miles on either side.

Scouts reported the find while trying to pick up outlying pockets of Hebridans in the field—the bodies were easily visible from the field. A few brave volunteers ringed into the horrific landscape to do a series of random DNA tests, and if the random sampling held true, they were all Hebridan slaves.

Hermione and her forces managed to save four hundred and thirty two thousand Hebridans, and another eight thousand Jaffa converts. Cronus' remaining human slaves refused to leave, and Hermione did not feel she had the right to force them into freedom. But the remaining nineteen million and six hundred thousand captives of Hebridan lay rotting in a glorified ditch, killed at Cronus' orders when he left Knosis to capture Harry. The sheer amount of effort expended in killing so many left her stunned.

She wasn't even crying. The horror was so deep, so profound, that she could not even comprehend it enough to weep. She could only stand on the edge of the canyon and stare down at the seemingly unending piles of bodies.

Jaxton was as dry-eyed as she was, but she suspected that was due to exhaustion. The past day and a half stretched all of the Khebbish forces to their limits. Cronus' loyal Jaffa continued their constant attacks despite Khebbish air and space superiority. The Jaffa used human slaves as shields, making sure to fire from the middle of large pockets of innocent civilians as they attacked.

The Empire fought back regardless, of course. Hermione herself had more kills than any single unit could claim. But it was much, much too late for those she looked upon.

"How could any sentient being do this?" she whispered finally. The wind abruptly changed direction behind her, momentarily blowing the stench away.

"Majesty…Hermione, we must leave."

"We're going to destroy them, Jaxton," she said as she continued to stand and stare. "We're going to wipe every Goa'uld from the face of the galaxy. If we ever find the home world where they originated from, we're going to glass it. This will never happen again."

"I know, Majesty," Jaxton said. His own voice was so hoarse it came out as a reedy whisper, almost. "And I'll fight right beside you as long as I'm able. But the people we have rescued need us. Please, come."

At last a single tear fell. Hermione wiped it away and nodded. "Right, let's get moving. Any word from my husband and adopted son?"

"The Emperor reports a safe escape from Parnas. He suffered fourteen hundred casualties. Prince Daniel is safe and they are on their way home."

"Then let's go home too, Jaxton. I'm sick of this world."

"You and me both, Empress."


	39. Stargate into Darkness

A/N Chap 38 review responses are in my forums as normal. Now, it's been a while. Let's see what Earth is up to.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Nine: Stargate Into Darkness**

Catherine Jackson (formerly Littlefield, and before that Langsford) sat curled up in her favorite plush chair holding a cup of tea on the porch of their modest but well-appointed home. The house was built on the side of a sloping hill overlooking the Lake Zug in Switzerland. All around her a gentle breeze blew down from the Alps behind her over the water, making the lush grass and trees shimmer magically in a cloudless afternoon.

When they received their last compensation package from the Empire for their help in recruiting English teachers from around the world, the small family of Catherine, Ernest and Catherine's name-sake Cathy looked around the world for the one place they wanted to retire to, and Lake Zug in Switzerland was the place they wanted. And because of the sometimes mind-boggling generosity of their friends on Kalmah, they had more than enough money to splurge. Their small three bed-room house cost more than comparable space in Manhattan.

But she could never have views like this back in New York.

Ernest was in the town of Zug for supplies, while Cathy was away at school in Zurich. At twenty-two, Claire and Melburn's only surviving daughter had grown into a beautiful women with all of her parent's brains and beauty to die for. She insisted on paying her own way through school but did so with modeling contracts that gave her plenty of extra spending money. Despite being only twenty-two, she was already in her second year of graduate studies in engineering. Ernest admitted he could barely follow much of what she was learning.

Claire and Melburn would have been so proud.

Catherine was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear the intruder until the wood steps of the porch creaked loudly. She spun about in her seat with a surprised gasp, almost spilling her tea, and fought back a surge of fear as General Walter O. West stepped onto her back porch. He was not in uniform, but rather wore a rather nice tailored suit and tie of dark navy with a brown felt Ausseer _trachtenhut_ hat with a matching navy blue trim and band covering his receding hairline.

He walked calmly in front of her and sat down in Ernest's rocking chair. "Beautiful view," he said, as if they were the best of friends. "I can see why you would want to settle down here. I have a little lake-side cabin myself back home in Minnesota. I keep hoping to retire someday, but they keep pulling me back in."

"Is that why you're here?" Catherine said when at last she could speak. "To pull us back in?"

"They've restarted the Program," he said. "We've already recruited Barbara Shore and Gary Meyers—one of your students from years ago, if I recall. They've having trouble with the symbols, not surprisingly."

"Walter, please don't do this," Catherine whispered, terrified. "The things we saw out there…if the Goa'uld find Earth, we're dead. All of us are dead."

West turned and regarded her for a long while, his face oddly still. "Your friends seemed to have done well."

Catherine snorted. "They aren't human, Walter. They can fly through the air like comic book heroes and kill people with their minds. Everyone around them worships them like gods. Don't set your expectations against their success."

The general shrugged. "It's out of my hands, Catherine. If you're that worried about it, then give us an address to dial—one that won't get us in trouble."

"I can't, Walter. You don't understand, they…they took the knowledge away from me. They removed it from my mind to protect me against exactly what you're trying to do. I don't know any addresses."

"But you could extrapolate." West continued to push. "You know enough about how the gate works that you could take what we have and make it work. We have a cartouche with six symbols. We just need a seventh."

"But I won't, Walter. I won't because if I do, I'll be condemning this whole world to death."

The general sighed. "Okay."

Catherine frowned. "Okay, just like that?"

"We're not the bad guys, Catherine," the general said. "We're not going to compel service. Do you honestly think we didn't know where you were? We could have brought you in any time if we wanted to. But in this case, we don't really have to. We wanted to give you a chance, but with or without you, we're going to succeed."

He stood and walked back the way he came. Before he left, he turned back and smiled at Catherine. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you found Ernest. And we're glad you brought Clair and Melburn Jackson's daughter back. She has quite the mind, that girl."

He left. As soon as he was gone, Catherine scrambled out of her seat and ran into the house to call Cathy's apartment in Zurich.

The number, when she reached it, was disconnected.

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

When West dragged him back into active duty and told him about the hair-brained scheme of his, Colonel Jack O'Neill thought the entire thing was just a bad joke West was engaging in as a pre-retirement "Fuck you!" to the world.

He expected a room full of withered old academics feeding bullshit to starry-eyed Air Force Officers with dreams of space ships and hot alien women. His expectations were not entirely wrong when West walked him through the command room during his first tour. He saw a bunch of civilians, mostly older men and women with one or two younger men in desperate need of haircuts and shaves.

It was only when he glanced down to the floor of the gate room itself where work tables and chalk-boards filled with hieroglyphics outlined a workspace did he get his first eye-opening surprise.

"Holy shit," Lieutenant Ferretti said from beside him. "Hey, Kawalsky, is that who I think it is?"

Lieutenant Kawalsky, who like Ferretti served with Jack for years, leaned forward and squinted a little. "Good God, it is."

Jack looked from one man to the other, then to the ridiculously hot auburn-headed girl on the floor, and said, "What are you two jawing about?"

"That's Cathy Jackson," Ferretti said. _"The_ Cathy Jackson, the Victoria's Secret model."

Jack raised a brow. "Victoria's Secret?"

"I get them for my sister's family," Ferretti said defensively.

"I get them because the models are hot," Kawalsky admitted with a shrug.

"Gentlemen," General West said sharply from the other side of Jack. " _Doctor_ Jackson is the civilian head of science and development in this program. She's fluent in six languages and just recently received two concurrent Ph.D.s from the Zurich Institute of Technology. If you even look at her wrong, she has my blessing to kick your ass."

"It would be worth it," Ferretti said with a dream expression.

"Don't," Jack said, sending his subordinate a glare. He then sent the glare to West. "She's smart, fine. I get it. There are other smart people who could do this. Why recruit a kid?"

West smirked. "Because she's been through the gate, Jack. She's an honest to God alien from another planet."

Jack stared from West back to where the young Ms. Jackson was talking in rapid-fire bursts to a series of wide-eyed researchers who appeared to be struggling to keep up. Ferretti summed it up. "Someone beam me up to her planet."

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

"She's got it?" O'Neill asked the next morning in the briefing room. "Didn't she just start a day before I arrived? I was told this project had been going on for months."

"She had some advantages our starting team didn't have," West reminded him. "And that's why she's going with you. We believe she's the only one who can get the team back."

"General, that's a bad idea," O'Neill said, not bothering with tact. "I get that she's smart. But we're going into an unknown, possibly hostile environment. Bringing in a civilian is not smart."

"You wouldn't last ten minutes if we run into a Goa'uld Jaffa," a young, overly confident voice said. The men in the conference room turned to see Cathy Jackson step into the room. She wore jeans and a sweater just tight enough to demonstrate why Victoria's Secret hired her.

"What the hell is a Goold…whatever?" Kawalsky asked.

"A genetically engineered human," she answered as she came and sat down at the table. Auburn hair was pulled back in a bun at the base of her skull, freeing what even Jack had to admit were the exquisite features of her face.

"And how would you know that" Ferretti asked.

"Because I went to school with some of their kids," she said. She frowned. "At least, I'm pretty sure I did. They messed with my mind a little, to keep me from doing exactly what I'm doing. But my brother's out there, somewhere. I want to see him again."

"So you know where we're going?" Jack asked.

"No idea," Cathy said flippantly. "Like I said—messed with my mind. I can't remember any gate addresses and have only vague memories of my time on…whatever world it was I went to school. But I remember how to speak Goa'uld, and I remember how the gate works generally. And I've learned enough on my own to rig up a dialing program that should work well enough. The problem is that the Cartouche talks about where Ra sent his first batch of human slaves before the ancient wizard kings of Egypt banished him. That means there's a very real chance that world still belongs to Ra. And if it does, we're going to have to be real quiet. Ra does not like us."

"Ra?" Jack said. "Like the…"

"Egyptian sun god, yes. Most of the gods of the ancient pantheon were real, just not real gods. They were alien symbiotic organisms that use humans as hosts, and they can live for tens of thousands of years. The same Ra who ordered the pyramids built and seeded the galaxy with slaves twenty thousand years ago is probably still alive. And if it _is_ his world, we're going to have to be really sneaky."

Ferretti and Kawalsky shared a long look before glancing at O'Neill. O'Neill, however, was studying Jackson. "So, what are you doing here?" he finally asked. "On Earth, I mean."

She smiled and shrugged. "That's really none of your business, Colonel."

"I'm aware of some of Doctor Jackson's circumstances and am content with her background," West said before Jack could respond. "By order of the President and Secretary of Defense, the mission is a go. Colonel O'Neill, prepare your team. And just to be clear, Doctor Jackson is a part of that team."

Jack schooled his face of any doubts he might have had. Orders were orders. "Yes, sir. Kawalsky, Ferretti, get the men geared up. Come alone, _Doctor_ Jackson."

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

When the gate opened up the first time, Jack had a hard time breathing. It felt like the very first parachute jump he took during his training in the Air Force Academy. His squad of ten men, and Dr. Jackson, watched silently as the probe rolled its way through the gate.

"We're getting breathable atmosphere," General West announced over the intercom. "Mission is a go."

"Forward," Jack ordered. Because he was who he was, he went first. The sensation was beyond disorienting—it felt terrifying and gut-wrenching on a visceral level he hadn't experienced since Iraq.

He stumbled out of the gate a split second later, his face coated by frost, and right into the butt of a very large, very heavy staff weapon. He hit the deck hard and heard harsh, alien voices yelling along with weapons fire and loud, zapping bursts of energy. All he could see, though, was blurry red. All he could feel was a throbbing in his skull where they hit him.

Finally he heard a feminine voice screaming. He wiped his eyes enough to see Doctor Jackson, hands up and on her knees, in front of the most ridiculous group of figures Jack had ever seen. The dozen or so figures were obviously all large, muscular men in outlandish armor and headpieces that made them look like dogs or something. Each carried a long, glowing staff that they had pointed at the prostrate Jackson.

She was talking fast in a language Jack could not understand, but he could understand well enough her pleading tone. With effort, he turned his head and saw Feretti staring back a few feet away with wide, lifeless eyes. His chest steamed from whatever weapon blast killed him. He couldn't see or hear the rest of his team.

The aliens grunted something. Jack turned his head back just in time to see Jackson point at him and rattle off a long string of alien words. She then glared at him before spitting in his direction.

 _Holy shit, she'd sold us out,_ O'Neill thought with a cold knot of anger in his chest.

Movement attracted his attention. One of the dog-masked men stepped up to him with an odd, snake-shaped handgun, grunted out what could have been a curse, and then Jack saw nothing but blue followed by darkness.

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

Jack came awake to the sound of weeping. And pain. His head throbbed not just from whatever the hell it was they shot him with, but from the beating he took when he first walked out of the gate. With effort and a groan, he managed to push himself into a sitting position.

"Colonel O'Neill, is that you?"

"Jackson?"

"I'm here," she said. He could hear her teeth chattering, though he couldn't tell if she was cold or so scared she was shivering. He tried sitting up more, but in the process his hand slipped and he fell into warm, brackish water. After flailing in the dark, he felt thin hands grab his arm and help him up enough to break the surface.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, sputtering.

"We're in the dungeons," she answered. "Oh God, Colonel, I screwed up. I screwed up so bad!"

She'd started weeping again. Jack hated it when women cried. "Stop that," he snapped. "Just tell me what the hell's going on? Who were those guys?"

"The Jaffa of Ra," she said, sniffing loudly in the darkness. "They were waiting for us. I mean, not us, but the people they're at war with. They thought we were enemy soldiers."

"And?"

"And I lied, and said I was a spy and lured you to a trap. That you were important to the Akai'kheb and could be a useful hostage. They were going to kill us all, Colonel! They killed your men, and they were going to kill us, and it was the only thing I could think of and…"

She'd started weeping again; Jack tried to tune her out and decipher what it was she said into something he actually understood. He didn't have much time—brilliant white light illuminated the darkness, causing both he and a now disheveled Jackson to blink. He heard those guttural words from the Jaffa, and seconds later he and Jackson both were grabbed and yanked up out of the water.

Jack tried not to groan as he was thrown across hard, baked clay tiles. Blinking back tears from the sudden, brilliant light and the pain from his throbbing head, he looked up to see a ridiculously beautiful woman in a revealing white skirt with pleated leather straps over it and a wrap that left her toned mid-drift bare. Dark eyes regarded him from an oval face with olive-toned skin and luscious black hair. She regarded him for a moment before looking to Jackson with a sneer. Her eyes suddenly glowed white as she snarled something.

Jackson prostrated herself completely on the floor and started jabbering away in her nonsense language. The Goa'uld cut her off with a barked command and then raised her right hand toward O'Neill. As she did so, she revealed an odd wrapping of gold around her hand, with a ruby in the middle over her palm. The air around the hand began to shimmer.

Jackson shouted in alarm, but again the hot alien lady with the glowing eyes cut her off sharply. Crying openly, now, Cathy looked up and said, "Catherine Jackson."

Jack had no idea what the name was supposed to mean, but the words caused the alien lady to stiffen for a long moment as she stared down at them. Around them, four very large, muscular men in their weird headpieces stood with staff weapons pointed at them.

Abruptly the alien turned the hand device to the nearest of the guards and a sudden flash of red light sent the guard flying back against a nearby column. "Secure the room," the lady said in inexplicably clear, heavily accented English to the other three.

"What….what…how can…but you're Goa'uld!" Jackson said.

"I am Tok'ra," the woman said. "My name is Thellas, and if you are indeed the sister of Prince Jackson, you should know that your family is very put out with you."

"What in the hell is happening here?" Jack said.

"We're getting you out," the alien woman named Thellas said. "Back to the Empire of Kheb, who are engaged in a war with the System Lords. We can't risk using the Stargate, Ra has it thoroughly secured. But we have an al'kesh nearby. The nearest world under Imperial control is Tenet. Come, we have to hurry!"

"What about my men?" O'Neill asked.

"Colonel, I'm sorry, they're dead," Jackson said. "Don't you remember? Come on!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him after the hot alien lady. The three dog-faced helmet men fell in around him. Jack liked to think he was passing smart, but he had no idea what the fuck was going on.

The five of them emerged from whatever room they were using onto an elevated platform that looked out onto a huge, paved platform surrounded by shimmering dunes in the distance. The platform also shimmered with heat, but despite the oppressive temperature he saw thousands of figures dressed similarly to those beside him moving about the field between rows of deadly-looking ships.

"What the hell is this place?"

"A Goa'uld forward base," Thellas explained tersely as they walked. "Do not speak from this point forward, nor fight if I am forced to hurt you. They must believe that I am a Goa'uld taking prisoners to Lord Ra or we will all die."

They walked quickly down a seemingly endless set of stairs until they reached the edge of the platform. All the warriors they passed, many of whom did not have headdresses and looked plainly human, bowed as Thellas walked by. She ignored them as if they were beneath her notice.

As they approached one of the larger, beetle-shaped craft, though, two men who did have their headpieces on barred their path and spoke in their guttural language. Thellas snapped something back, her eyes glowing, but the two Jaffa didn't seem to be buying what she was selling.

Strangely, Jackson stepped past the Goa'uld and again started speaking in a pleading tone, her large eyes glistening. The two Jaffa swayed where they stood before gradually they stepped aside. "Walk calmly on board," the young woman said over her shoulder.

Once they were aboard, including the three Jaffa who seemed to be helping, two of allied Jaffa somehow retracted their headpieces into collars around their necks and ran toward what Jack guessed was the cockpit. Behind them, the ramp closed.

"What was that?" Jack demanded.

Thellas, however, turned to regard Cathy with one raised brow. "We were not told you were possessed some of the same powers as Prince Daniel."

Cathy smiled weakly and rubbed the back of her neck. "I don't, really. He was always a lot stronger than me. But I can usually get what I want if I talk fast enough. Please, can you tell me what's happening on Earth?"

Thallas's face went blank. "The Throne was contacted by your grandmother to report you missing, and that there was an explosion on one of your continents so large it obliterated two mountains and several surrounding communities. Our guess is that Ra ordered a naquedah-enhanced nuclear device sent through the gate."

She said it with cool crispness, but the words hit Jack like a boat load of bricks. "What are you saying, lady?"

Cathy, though, dropped to the floor in a cross-legged position, bowed her head, and suddenly moaned. "It's my fault! It's all my fault!"

"Yes, unfortunately it is."

Jack couldn't help but stare at Thellas. "That's not helping."

"Perhaps not, but neither is blindly ignoring the obvious," the older woman said. "We are at war with the Goa'uld. This war has seen casualties in the billions and whole worlds destroyed. The System Lords have been searching for a way to strike back decisively. Our young princess here was told, as were her guardians, not to help or participate in any program that would see Earth use a stargate precisely because it would make Earth a target. Young Princess Cathy ignored our warnings and now Earth is a target."

"We can take care of ourselves," Jack said.

"No, Colonel, we can't." He glanced down at wear Jackson was wiping her eyes. "We really can't. They'll glass the planet from orbit."

"More likely, Ra will employ biological weaponry," Thellas disagreed. "Most System Lord resources are currently employed in open warfare with the Empire, and Ra has already employed a deadly bioweapon on two Imperial worlds."

The ship rose into the air abruptly. Jack could feel just enough to know they were in motion. Intrigued, and with the pragmatism a lifetime of military service imbued in him, he left the frightening conversation as something he couldn't do anything about and instead moved toward the cockpit. Ahead, he saw pale blue sky with the subtle but increasingly obvious points of stars the higher they went. In just seconds, the blue faded into black, save for the hint of a moon.

And, of course, twelve of the biggest, scariest-looking ships he'd ever seen. Each was shaped like a giant golden pyramid framed in a dark metallic latticework. Hidden speakers began blaring the guttural language around their heads.

"They know we're escapees," Thellas said. "Ra placed orders for no ships to leave Abydos until he arrived to interrogate you. We've cloaked, so we should be safe enough."

Indeed, when the energy blasts came they seemed far away. As Jack watched, the sky blurred blue until it erupted in a scintillating tunnel of blue and black light. He looked back to the red, swollen eyes of Cathy Jackson. "Princess, huh?"

She shrugged. "After our parents, brother and sister were killed, the royal family took Daniel and I in. But…but I decided to go with Nana Catherine and Papa Ernest back to Earth. Daniel stayed. I haven't seen him in years. And now he's going to be so mad at me."

She sniffed again before looking out the window. "I just hope Uncle Harry can save the Earth before it's too late."

* * *

A/N: Yep, Jack O'Neill (two Ls) is back. Unfortunately, things are not going well. Can they get worse?

Silly question.


	40. Ra's Revenge

[A/N: Just a reminder that, unless you see something stating otherwise on my profile, I post every Saturday morning. Even if you don't get a notification email from ff dot net, chances are I've posted. Also, regarding this chapter-yes. Yes I did.]

* * *

 **Chapter Forty: Ra's Revenge**

[ _While clearly inspired by the events of a movie that you will see immediately (if you didn't see it earlier with the massive foreshadowing in the use of certain borrowed characters) please note that this is taking place a decade or so earlier under different circumstances.]_

"Mommy, what's that?"

Karin Lane looked up from the article she was working on to where her daughter was pointing. Her Saturday morning cartoon had been preempted by what looked like an aerial shot of a bomb blast, but a blast unlike anything she'd ever seen or even heard of. Frowning, she left the table and stepped to the TV to turn up the volume. Their cramped apartment on 77th Street in Manhattan did not have a separate dining and living area.

"… _confirmed the blast occurred at 3 am this morning. Ground Zero is being reported as near Colorado Springs, Colorado…."_

Karin frowned. She remembered being woken up early that morning, but she couldn't remember why.

" _Michael, do we have any idea who, or what, was responsible for the blast?"_ The news anchor spoke slow and ponderously, as if to accentuate the devastating seriousness of the event.

" _The White House was very quick to assure the other world leaders that the blast was not a result of a foreign nuclear attack of any kind,"_ the reporter on the other end said. Karin frowned as she tried to identify where he was, and why he appeared to be standing in snow despite the fact it was July. Then she realized he was standing in a shower of ash.

" _Thank you, Michael. Michael Thomas, reporting from Albuquerque, New Mexico, where the fallout from the enormous blast could still be seen. I'm Dan Thomlinson, and if you are just now joining us, the United States was rocked early this morning by the largest nuclear detonation in the history of the world. Seismologists from the US Geological Survey and the Department Energy are estimating a blast of over two gigatons of explosive force. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, gigatons. The explosion was the equivalent of two billion tons of TNT. In relation, the largest explosion previous to that was the infamous Russian Tsar Bomba hydrogen bomb detonated in 1961. That bomb had a yield of 50 to 58 megatons. The explosion this morning was forty times as large. With more on this morning's tragic and unprecedented events, we go to Washington correspondent…."_

Karin jumped when the telephone rang. She turned the television down and ran to the phone. "Mommy, what's wrong?" Rachel asked. "Mommy? Mommy?"

"Rachel, hush, baby," she said before answering. "Hello?"

"It's me, babe," Garry Lane said over the line.

"Did you see…?"

"Yeah. Look, sweetie, I need you to pack emergency bags, okay? For all of us. Clothes, IDs, try and get some cash from the bank. Empty the money market. Get preserved foods, water bottles and first aid kits."

Karin tried to keep her hands from shaking. "Gerry, what's happening?"

"Karin, babe, you know who this was. This is just the beginning."

"Are you going to tell Thierri?"

She heard him sigh. "I'm not sure he'd believe me. But I know General West was with the Air Force, and the Air Force had a large facility in Colorado Springs. It's too much to be a coincidence."

Karin looked back at Rachel, who stood nearby banging a DUPLO piece against a table in a childish attempt to get her mother's attention. "Babe, what are we going to do?"

"Just be ready to go as soon as you get the call," came the quick response. "Look, I gotta go. I don't know when I'll be home, just get the cash and supplies and pack the bags. I love you, Karin."

"Love you too, baby."

The line clicked dead. Karin hung up the head piece before looking around their apartment. It seemed so small and cramped after the house they shared on Kalmah after they got married. Sometimes, she questioned whether they should have returned at all. It was the Hebridan Apocolypse that finally convinced them to return to Earth following their five year teaching contracts. Not only did the invasion and annihilation of a planet so similar to Earth shock them, but when, two years later, the Empire of Kheb mounted a rescue mission, they found millions of Hebridan slaves had been slaughtered just out of spite.

Knowing the horrors that they faced, and the likelihood that their children would be born into an Empire at war, the two came home.

Unfortunately, it looked like the horror followed them back.

"Rachel, Baby, we're going to the bank and then going shopping. If you're good, I'll get you a treat, okay?"

Rachel nodded somberly. "Okay, mommy."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The initial casualty rates took three days to compile. As they watched people dancing in the street throughout the Islamic world to celebrate the wrath of God descending on their hated enemies in America, the news anchors reported losses unlike anything the country or even the world had ever seen before.

The entire city of Colorado Springs was gone, with almost all 300,000 residents being reported as deceased. News crews were still not allowed near the city because of the intense radiation that saturated the area. Satellite images were useless because of the lingering cloud cover. The aerial shots from news helicopters miles away using powerful telescopes gave the first hints of just how terrifying the explosion had been.

Cheyenne Mountain was simply gone, and the surrounding range was physically different than from before the unknown blast.

Garry didn't make it home that first night, nor the second, though they were able to speak on the phone. It wasn't until the third night that he finally made it back to the apartment. She'd never seen him look so exhausted when he walked in.

"Daddy!" Rachel screamed as she ran to him. "Lookit! Lookit! Made a car!" She waved her DUPLO set around wildly. Despite his exhaustion Garry picked her up, gave her a kiss and _oohed_ and _aahed_ over the car. "Daddy, you got stinky breath!" she declared.

Garry forced a laugh. "I bet." He put her down after letting her assure herself that he was really there, hugged his wife, and made his way to the kitchen. After two glasses of water, he grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the fridge, a bowl of left-over stir-fry and sank into his chair at their small dinner table.

Karin sat down opposite him, staring and waiting as he started shoveling the cold stir-fry into his mouth with an over-sized spoon. "Something's happening," he said between bites as he looked in Rachel's direction without seeing her.

He shook his head and kept eating as if he hadn't eaten a proper meal in days. Suddenly, she realized he hadn't. "Garry, what's going on?"

"I was in Sudan yesterday," he said when he'd eaten enough to think again. "Just got in an hour ago. Things are happening all over."

"Like what?"

"After the explosion, the government started censoring the news reports, but something's happening. Everywhere. Riots like we've never seen. People are dying. Cities are dying, so fast we're having trouble keeping track of it. I can't even…" A single tear ran down his face as he swilled half his can of soda.

"Garry, you're scaring me," Karin said, struggling to maintain her composure.

"That's because it's scary as shit," he said. He never cursed, most especially when their daughter could hear.

Speaking of: "Mommy, what does shit mean?" Rachel asked.

She glared at Garry, but he didn't seem to care. "Did you make the bags like I told you?"

"Yeah."

"Grab them. Grab everything, we're leaving."

"Garry, where?"

"We need to get to the U.N. campus. All WHO employees and their families are being evacuated to a ship off-shore."

Karin's heart skipped a beat. "Garry, baby, I don't…"

"We need to get out of the city, Karin. We need to go now. Go to the bathroom, grab the emergency bags I told you about, and let's go. We're going to have to take our bikes. Traffic is a bear."

It took all of Karin's control to fight back a sob as she walked quickly to their bedroom and grabbed the two large camping backpacks that she'd filled with bare essentials for the two of them and Rachel. When she came back into the living/dining area, she almost dropped the already heavy backpacks when she saw Garry pulling a gun down from a cookie tin on top of the fridge.

He met her gaze squarely as he checked to make sure the clip was full before slipping it in the waistband of his pants, hiding by his shirt. "We need to go," he said.

Between their oversized back packs and toddler daughter, it was a chore to pull the bikes in from their balcony storage closet. Both were sturdy mountain bikes, and Garry's had an attachment carriage for Rachel.

"We gonna bike ride?" Rachel asked, hopping with excitement. They knew she was aware of the tension in the air, but couldn't understand why. All she knew was that bike rides with mommy and daddy were rare and special.

"You bet," Garry said, forcing a smile. "And if you're real good, you might even get to ride in a helicopter. Won't that be fun?"

"Yeah!"

They had to use the freight elevator between their bikes, backpacks, Rachel and her carriage attachment. They garnered more than a few looks, but they were too worried to care. "I'm going to ride first," Garry said with quiet intensity. "I want Rachel between us. We're going to ride between cars."

"Garry, that's crazy, the traffic…"

"Traffic isn't moving, Karin. The tunnels are closed. I just barely beat the barricade."

Karin suddenly found it hard to breathe. When they emerged from the apartment building, she saw immediately what he meant. Honking cars filled the streets, obviously stopped long enough for some of the drivers to be standing by their open doors shouting and what they assumed was a blockage ahead.

"We're going to take 2nd," Garry said over his shoulder. "I'm going to go as fast as I can, but yell if I go too fast, or if you see something up with Rachel."

He quickly secured Rachel into her carriage before hooking it into the rear of his own bicycle. It was a challenge for Karin to mount her bike with her large backpack, but Garry made it look easy. He kicked off on the sidewalk, and she followed as close behind Rachel's carriage as she could.

It took only a few minutes of riding East before they reached 2nd Avenue. It took only a single glance to know something was terribly wrong—every intersection was blocked by cars, with several having crashed. People were standing and arguing or even fighting in the streets. Fortunately the sidewalks were not too crowded this far up. Garry kept them on the sidewalks as they started riding south.

By 55th Street they had to move onto the streets because the sidewalks had become crowded. Traffic here was no better than further north.

They were just passing 48th Street when they heard the screams. Rachel could not look behind her, not with the huge backpack, but all around she could see people starting to run as they looked back north with expressions of horror.

"Garry!" she screamed.

"Ride, baby," Garry shouted back over his shoulder. "We're almost there, go as fast as you can!"

To illustrate, he stood up and started pedaling harder. "Daddy, too fast!" Rachel screamed as she bounced around wildly in her little carriage. Karin did the same, struggling to keep up with the new pace he set. The ride was deadly just because of the sheer number of people running around them, but Garry kept going with a determined single-mindedness.

They passed the intersection of 45th street when she saw the impossible. A woman ran past her coated in blood with a torn dress, sprinting faster than Karin could ride her bike, and slammed bodily into a police officer who even then was yelling at Garry for blowing between the stuck cars. The officer screamed as the woman started ripping into his neck with her bare teeth.

To her right, a boy of no more than twelve, also covered in blood, slammed into a woman of sixty like a bullet, taking her down screaming as he began to eat her.

"Oh God, Oh God!" she whispered as she pedaled harder than she'd ever ridden in her life.

They reached 44th and Garry took a hard left, leaning into the turn as he did so. Unfortunately, Rachel's carriage was not designed to handle such rough riding and tipped the other way. "Garry!" Karin screamed as she jumped off her own bike and ran to her crying daughter. Rachel was still inside, bleeding from a cut on her forehead, but the carriage folding roof had protected her from the worst of the fall.

Garry grabbed their daughter and virtually ripped her free from the restraints. "Run!" he shouted. "Just go!"

He barreled ahead, a crying Rachel in his arms, and Karin ran behind him. Around them, people were running and screaming as more and more of the bloodied figures swept in around them. The pack slapped painfully against her back as they made their way east across 44th Street toward the U.N. Building.

Ahead, over the crowds, she could hear gunfire and more screams. Suddenly they broke free from the worst press of people and emerged onto 1st Avenue. Garry didn't stop at all—he started running further south, and as he did she could see a large military helicopter lifting off from the circle drive in front of the UN tower. As they came closer, she saw large metal fences blocking off what was just days ago entry and exits for cabs and limousines. Hundreds of soldiers stood behind the gates, and every few feet she could see piles of sandbags holding a huge machine gun.

Garry continued running toward the soldier, and Karin stayed right on his heels.

One of the soldiers in front of the fence turned and pointed his weapon right at Garry, despite Rachel being in his arms. "Freeze! This is a closed…"

"Garry Lane, I'm with WHO!" Garry shouted. He fumbled into his pocket and removed his ID badge. "I'm scheduled for evacuation with my family!"

Two more soldiers emerged from the fence, the whites of their eyes showing as they scanned the chaos around them. The first soldier waved Garry forward to inspect his badge. He then pulled out a long sheet of paper and started scanning it. "Damn, man, you just barely made it," the soldier said when he confirmed Garry's identity. "Last bird's bugging out in two minutes. Get moving!"

"Thank you!" Garry said before he ran through the gate with Karin on his heels. Behind them, Karin could hear more shouts from those very same soldiers, following by weapons fire.

"Don't look back, Baby!" Garry shouted from in front of her. "Don't look back!"

They passed another barricade, but this time men in suits and walkie-talkies were waiving them through to the last helicopter on the pad. Garry climbed in without hesitation, concentrating on getting Rachel secure while Karin climbed in. The chopper was surprisingly large inside, but even so was cramped with other people.

Screams and shouts tore her attention back to the security perimeter and she couldn't help but hold her hands to her mouth in horror. A veritable wave of rotten, bleeding humanity was pouring out not just from 44th, but also 43rd and 42nd Streets, sweeping toward the security lines.

The soldiers opened up with everything they had, mowing the oncoming wave down. Normal people would have fled for cover. This wave, though, kept coming over the bodies of the fallen.

"Get out of here!" Garry shouted toward the pilot. Others took up his call and Karin could hear the engine whine as it sped up.

Outside, the wave of monsters finally struck the gate despite being fired upon at point-blank range. The gate didn't even slow them. They poured over it like a flood, drowning the valiant but doomed defenders under the tide.

"Garry!" Karin screamed as the monsters continued to approach just as the helicopter lifted off. The pilot poured power into the rotors, surging the helicopter up just as the wave of death reached them. Several of the infected humans jumped insane heights—one even grabbed the landing skid, snarling and growling like an animal. People in the helicopter screamed in horror, but there was nowhere to go. More of the monsters grabbed that first man's feet, somehow forming a chain of flesh that still others were starting to climb up.

Garry reached behind his back, removed his Ruger, and fired a single round into the creature's head. The chain collapsed back into the boiling mass of bodies below. Others in the helicopter stared at Garry as he slipped the gun back into his jeans.

Garry, though, looked at Karin. She met his gaze squarely, for once thankful he had that gun, before she looked down at the city below. From the air, she could see columns of smoke rising up all over the city. It looked like something out of a warzone.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Twenty minutes later, Garry looked out the window at ships of every description, from military to civilians, small patrol boats to luxury cruise liners, spread out for miles. However, the largest of them was the massive, flat-topped supercarrier that formed the nucleus of the fleet.

Garry saw the registry numbers and tried to recall which ship it was. _Roosevelt_ , he remembered as the helicopter came closer. The deck of the ship bristled with planes parked in storage configuration to make room for the helicopters. He noticed more choppers going to smaller flat tops a kilometer or two away, but it was the supercarrier that seemed to be the center of attention.

He couldn't help but sigh when he saw his boss, Assistant Deputy Secretary Thierry Umuntoni of the World Health Organization standing on the deck, his round face tilted and his lips pursed in obvious worry. Garry climbed out and took Karin's backpack so she could take Rachel. The bleeding from the little girl's cut forehead was slowing down and now she simply clung to her mother in a quiet state of shock.

"Karin," Thierri said, giving the woman a hug. "I'm so glad you two made it. I understand it was a close thing. Are you okay?"

Mutely, Karin nodded.

"Well, come, we have two bunks for you. Will you be okay sharing a bunk with young Rachel?"

"Yes, that's fine," Karin said without hesitation. All they had to do was look around at the milling crowds of terrified people to realize how desperate the situation was. Garry and his family followed behind Thierry without speaking as he led them into the ship. Eventually, they found an ensign whose job was to assign them to their various rooms.

It took am amazingly long time to wander through the vast maze of the ship, but eventually they came to the crew berthing—cramped beds in metal bins stacked three high. Theirs were bunks two and three, with Garry's on the top-most.

Fortunately, the corner they found themselves in was relatively quiet. "How bad is it?" Garry asked without hesitation as soon as he was able to start unloading his back pack into the locker dedicated to his bunk. "Is anyone doing any better than we are?"

Thierri looked from him to his wife, who looked back expectantly as she cradled a now calmed and sleeping Rachel. "We are doing better than most," he finally said in clipped Oxford English. "The _Roosevelt_ Carrier Group was nearby and provided a safe haven and a destination for other ships. We have two carrier groups off the West Coast and a third near Florida that are providing emergency shelters for those we can evacuate. Garry, you must understand that you and I, we are only here in our official capacity. We are going to need you."

Garry wasn't even thirty yet and he was a junior front-line investigator, he had no doubts as to his importance in the scheme of things. Most of the people he passed were elected officials, military officers or had some other expertise to bring to the table. With a glance back at Karin, who blushed but gave a barely perceptible nod, he himself nodded to Thierri. "I know. I'm ready."

"Good, come with me. Karin, if you need anything, ask an ensign. I understand they should be bringing bottled water through in the next few minutes."

"Garry," Karin called as he left.

He turned and looked at her, and at the moisture at the corners of her eyes. Two steps brought him back long enough to kiss her. "I'll be back," he whispered.

"You'd better, damn it."

Thierri diplomatically said nothing as he led his employee out of the berthing area and toward the lower deck. He gave a summary of the situation as he understood it just from his own short stay on the ship while they walked.

"The President is dead," he explained grimly. "Four of the joint chiefs are gone, and the Vice President is missing. Things are even worse in Europe, Asia and Africa. The largest population centers were hit hardest. Areas where populations were less dense were still hit, but not as quickly. At first, we believed the vector began in the Koreas, but when we started receiving reports from Burundi to Chile, we realized that it was a simultaneous, global event. A global, extinction-level event."

The words chilled Garry but only because Thierri stated what was obvious, but which no one else wanted to acknowledge. When they reached the hangar deck of the ship, they found the space wide open and filled with impromptu communications equipment and work stations. Televisions and projection screens were set up in a hemisphere toward the back of the work area showing footage from around the world. Nearby, a whiteboard had numbers on it that made Garry's knees shake.

Current Projected Loss: 3.8 B

"Oh my God," he whispered. "Thierri, is that number correct?"

Thierri glanced at the board, but then shook his head. "No, I imagine it's much higher now. They stopped writing down the numbers because they've become meaningless. The dead far, far outnumber the living."

"My God, we _are_ going extinct," Gerry whispered in horror.


	41. Big Honking Space Guns

A/N: Chapter 40 responses (a whole heck of a lot of them) are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-One: Big, Honkin' Space Guns**

Colonel Jack O'Neill (two Ls) stood staring down at an alien planet from the cockpit of a real alien spaceship with a sense of numbness that was difficult to describe.

The entire situation after going through the Stargate had gone FUBAR so fast it was only a lifetime of combat and equally fluid situations that allowed him to keep going. He told himself he'd wrap his mind around it later, when he had a chance.

The two-day flight to the planet called Tenet gave him that unwanted opportunity. Moreover, it gave the young Cathy Jackson opportunity to consider what happened as well, and from the utterly miserable expression on her face, it was not a good thing at all.

He learned the difference between a Goa'uld and a Tok'ra (which was philosophical only); the difference between a human and a Jaffa; and finally the difference between humans and the rulers of the Empire he was being flown into.

This last he learned from the Jaffa themselves when they explained that they followed the teachings of the Tripartite. "You mean like the Father, Son and Holy Ghost?" he asked.

The taller of the two, named Chen'et, laughed. "Who would worship a ghost? No, Colonel O'Neill, we worship the Akai'kheb and his heavenly companions, the blessed Hermione and Luna. Because of them, my two sons and three daughters are free from the burdens of slavery our birth shackled the Jaffa with. For this, I will serve the Tripartite gladly for the remainder of my life."

"He's talking about my uncle and his wives," Cathy supplied grumpily from the corner where she sat on bench that protruded from the wall of the ship. Evidently the ships were not designed for creature comforts.

"Indeed," Chen'et said with a nod to the young woman. "And though she is young and foolish for her actions, the Princess is blessed by the adoption of the Tripartite. Now, I must return to my duties." The tall, muscular warrior nodded to O'Neill before turning to the cockpit.

O'Neill shook his head and walked to the bench to sit beside the miserably young woman. "So, two wives, huh?"

Cathy shrugged. "There's a whole mythology around them. Uncle Harry died when he was a kid and travelled to the land of the dead. Forty-some-odd days later he returned to life, only he was really evil and dark. Auntie Hermione loved him so much that somehow she helped save him, but in the process he tainted her with darkness as well. So Auntie Luna joined the two of them to balance the darkness out. The faith that's grown up around them actually has some surface similarities to the _Spenta Mainyu_ and _Angra Mainyu_ dichotomy of Zoroastrianism. Harry's imbibed with the Evil Spirit of destruction and chaos, while his wives represent the good spirits of creation and life. The official Imperial theology is that they were elevated to divine beings by the Ancient Gatebuilders to fight the _Enemy."_ She made finger parenthesis when she said the last.

"You don't agree?"

She sighed and looked up. "No, it's all true, probably. Thing is, when you grow up around the miraculous it becomes routine. Harry took me flying once when I was six or seven. No machines, no airplanes or jets. He could fly just like superman."

Jack snorted. "Like that superman hoax in New York?"

She looked at him with a flat expression. "That wasn't a hoax, Colonel. That was Uncle Harry. My parents were there. He was distracting the police while Hermione and Luna helped my parents and Nana escape from the Air Force. I remember mother telling us the story of how he flew her and my brother Daniel across the city of New York to escape."

Her eyes shifted off him, focused on something far away. "Nana Catherine said that on Kalhu, Uncle Harry almost Ascended. He lit up the city like a star, and if he'd Ascended he would have started a war among the Ancients and Enemy that would have ended creation. It was Hermione and Luna that helped him decide to stay mortal. After, Nana said she could see the heat pouring off his body and that he had to take ice baths because the near ascension almost burned his body out. He even aged a couple of years. I suppose that's good. Sometimes it's hard to take the Emperor of Kheb seriously when he looks like he's nineteen. Now he at least looks like he's in his early twenties."

Jack wasn't sure at all how he should take that, and said so.

She shrugged. "They are what they are, whether you believe it or not. For me, though…this is my fault. I _knew_ it was a bad idea working on the gate and I did it anyway. I had this stupid idea of getting to the stars on my own, so I could look at my brother and say, 'See, I'm special too!' It was stupid, and a lot of people are going die because of it. Because of me."

"You need to stop that."

She blinked. "What?"

"Look, I get you're smart and all that. But do you really think West and his team wouldn't have figured it out eventually? They would have. And we would have gone anyway, and this same shit would have happened. Only I'd be dead because you weren't there to put that fast-talking Voodoo-whammy on those guards. So yeah, I get it. You did something stupid. But it wasn't your decision to go, any more than it was mine. We followed orders, and things went to hell. All we can do now is try to pick up the pieces."

She considered it for a moment before nodding. "Maybe. I just hope it's not too late."

Now, two days later, O'Neill began to wonder. For one, the planet Tenet was obviously in a state of war. The moment they emerged from hyperspace they found themselves in the middle of a pitched battle.

He had no idea what the Jaffa pilots said, but he was fairly certain it wasn't polite. The pilot jerked their ship hard to avoid what looked like a giant metallic-gray dagger with a shark's fin at the back which was thrumming with huge guns shooting blasts of green energy. Occasionally a missile would launch from a turret that would pop up out of a clever hatch before disappearing. They couldn't see its target from their cockpit.

"Send the IFF signal before they shoot us down!" Thellas shouted as she grasped at the back of the pilot's chair to keep from falling.

"Done!" the co-pilot Jaffa said. "Lord Cronus must have received reinforcements; last report said we held the planet securely."

"We need to get out of the engagement or we're done for," Thellas said, though Jack noticed the order was largely unnecessary. Chen'et was obviously a good pilot and was trying to thread a course clear of what Jack could only describe as an utter fragfest. Outside the windows, smaller fighters zoomed back and force almost faster than the naked eye could follow, making their passage that much more treacherous.

Chen'et cursed again in his own language before spinning the al'kesh violently upside down and then nose-down toward the planet below. Doing so, however, put them on a direct heading toward a giant golden pyramid. Even as they approached, a huge barrage of green blasts of energy and missiles as large as tanker trucks slammed into its energy shields, causing the shields to flare brilliantly before they failed. Missiles and energy blasts then began slamming into the structure itself, quickly ripping it apart.

The explosion should have blinded Jack, but he realized somehow the viewscreen of their ship automatically dimmed to shield their eyes from the worst of the light. Chen'et kept flying right toward where the now split craft used to be and dove them right through the four huge sections that were flying apart from each other leaving trails of debris and plasma.

"That was some damned good flying," Jack said, one pilot to another.

"Indeed," the co-pilot said.

"I am not done," Chen'et said. "Death gliders are following."

Thellas leaned over the co-pilot and tapped a communications crystal. "Attention IDF fighters, the newly arrived al'kesh is carrying the sister of Prince Daniel. Death Gliders are on our tail, please be so kind as to remove them."

"IDF fighters closing fast," the co-pilot, Do'los, said with a wry smile. "Thirty of them. It appears your message was received, Thellas."

They couldn't see anything but the planet below, but Do'los was monitoring the battle behind them. "They are destroyed," he said with satisfaction. "However, we are receiving warnings from…"

Chen'et cursed again as the viewport once again shaded before a brilliant fireball directly in front of them.

Jack muttered a curse himself as he saw a mushroom cloud billowing up from the surrounding cloud cover of the planet. "They're nuking the planet?" he asked.

"That is not a normal Goa'uld tactic," Thellas said with a worried frown. "Do'los, have we received any…"

"Hold!" Che'net said as he adjusted their course just as they hit the atmosphere. The sudden change in orientation caused them to essentially belly-flop the ship into the atmosphere with enough violence that Jack stumbled to the floor and Thellas tripped over him.

"My apologies," the pilot said when they smoothed once more. "I had to avoid the plume. Do'los, where do I fly?"

"Southern continent is under IDF control," the co-pilot announced. "I am sending coordinates to the command post."

Chen'et nodded. "It should be smoother from this point on. It appears Lord Cronus' sortie is being repulsed behind us. I have no explanation of the explosion below. The IDF does not use nuclear weapons on planetary surfaces. The Akai'kheb wishes to free the Jaffa and human slaves of the false gods, not kill them."

They were well and truly in the atmosphere now, flying past land at several times the speed of sound with barely a hint of movement. Below Jack saw a sparse, desert landscape. Within minutes, though, he could see the first vestiges of civilization in the form of small houses in the midst of pale green fields around a wide, shallow river. The density of construction increased until they were flying over an actual town. In the middle, rising majestically over the down, was a broken pyramid.

The structure looked to have been even larger than the famed pyramids of Egypt, but the cap and a large portion of the western face of the pyramid looked as if they'd been hit by the biggest damned artillery shell in history.

It was to a vast field bristling with ships, tents and soldiers at the foot of that broken pyramid that they flew. Jack could see easily a dozen of what he presumed were space fighters of some kind, and another half dozen larger, bulkier craft that looked suspiciously like wasps on steroids. Probably some gunship analogue.

A woman in a mottled camo uniform that looked vaguely British in design was waving a lit baton to signal Chen'et where to land the al'kesh. He followed her instructions and brought the ship down beside two others of similar design.

"So what now?" O'Neill asked.

"Now, you and Princess Cathy go into quarantine," Thellas said. "I and the Jaffa are immune to any diseases you may be carrying, but we've learned from hard experience that humans from outside the Empire can bring dangerous illnesses. You can stay in here and food and water will be provided until a medic can ensure you are safe."

Jack couldn't help but stare. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Colonel, do you have any idea how many natives Smallpox killed when the Spaniards introduced it in Mexico and Central America?" Cathy asked as she joined him. "Trust me, a few days in quarantine is worth it. Besides, they can still talk to us. Right, Thellas?"

"Yes," she said as she and Do'los stood. "Chen'et will stay with you for now, but someone else may come. If the medic clears you, you can leave sooner. I will check with the local commanders to see if a representative of the Tripartite Throne will be available to speak with either of you. Until then, it was interesting meeting you."

She turned to leave with Do'los on her heels. "Wait!" Cathy said. "You were a spy, right? Are you going to be in trouble for giving up your position?"

Thellas smiled at the young woman, though wanly. "Unlikely. My position was already under scrutiny, and more importantly, you are the adopted daughter of the Throne. I will not be in any trouble, I assure you. For now, Princess, Colonel, good luck."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Three hours later, after being treated to what he could only describe as military rations, O'Neill saw a young man with messy black hair walk into the ship. He was clad in body armor like something out of a bad historical flick—a chest plate that left most of his arms bare except for the vambraces on his forearms, and metallic greaves that protected his shins. The armor didn't even cover the whole of his stomach. Underneath the armor was black clothing of a fine fabric that glistened under the lights of the ship.

As he walked up the ramp, Jack looked closer and saw that all the armor pieces were covered in a dense series of symbols. The air around the young man seemed to radiate heat.

Cathy immediately jumped to her feet, her eyes tearing up. "Uncle Harry," she gasped. "You're here. You're really here."

He did not move to hug her; instead he stopped a few feet away and regarded her intently. He then looked at O'Neill with a flat expression before nodding. "Colonel, Cathy. I'd shake your hands, but I'm still fairly radioactive at the moment."

O'Neill raised an eyebrow but chose not to risk making a fool of himself by asking a stupid question. As they waited, Chen'et entered the open cargo area of the ship and bowed deeply. "Akai'kheb, it is an honor to meet you. I am Chen'et of Altonis."

"Well met, Chen'et," the young-seeming Akai'kheb said with a regal nod. "I just received reports of your flying from one of my squadron commanders. She said it was some of the finest piloting she'd ever seen. Do you have family in the Empire?"

"I do, Akai'kheb. I was on assignment from the Blessed Luna for the past year, serving under Thellas the Tok'ra on Abydos. My children are Mal Jaffa because of you."

"That's good. Gate home for some well-earned rest. Report to IDF headquarters in a month after you've had time with your family. General An'hur will be pleased to have a pilot of your skills."

"It will be my honor, Akai'kheb," Chen'et said before bowing again and leaving the ship.

When he was gone, the Akai'kheb sighed. "Cathy, go close the ship up, please."

She complied without hesitation. The young man started stripping off his armor. As he did so, he spoke casually to O'Neill. "My wife's intelligence network intercepted a message the Goa'uld Cronus sent to his outposts. If I appear on a base, they are to kill themselves immediately with one of the nuclear warheads he provided in the hope of killing me. I figure, if they're going to make my job easier, why not take advantage of it? I teleported in shielded and charmed nine ways to Sunday, got them to set off the nuke, and then teleported out."

This time, O'Neill couldn't keep his mouth shut. "You telling me you survived a nuke?"

"This armor isn't just to make me look pretty, General." He stopped and peered at O'Neill's insignia. "Ah, Colonel, then. No, the armor bears some of the most powerful protective magic my family and I are able to create. It's paired with a personal shield similar to what the Goa'uld System Lords themselves use. A Goa'uld can survive quite a bit with their shield up. Between the shields and my armor, I can survive the first radiation flashwave of the blast. The trick is to teleport out immediately. I've got my armor essentially programmed to take me out the moment the nuke goes off. Even I'd have a hard time surviving if I stayed longer."

With a sigh of relief he removed the chest plate, vambraces and grieves. "You've eaten?"

"Yeah." Jack frowned. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you. Or, more precisely, I met a version of you from a future alternate timeline. It can be hard to explain to newcomers."

Cathy came back, and this time he gave her a gentle hug. "Yes, you were dumb," he said over her head. "Your Auntie Hermione assures me that even smart people do dumb things all the time. But this isn't your fault. You didn't enhance that nuke with naquedah and send it back to Colorado. You didn't even send the nuke in the first place. That is all the bloody American's fault."

O'Neill couldn't help but stiffen at that seemingly simple but terrifying statement. "Do you know what happened?"

"My wife Luna received a call from Dr. Catherine Littlefield, Cathy's adopted grandmother. There was an explosion in Colorado so powerful it obliterated not just all of Cheyenne Mountain, but the entire city of Colorado Springs. Several hundred thousand people died, and millions more have had to evacuate because of the radioactive fallout. That's the best news I have."

O'Neill raised a brow. "Best news?"

"We think the Supreme System Lord, Ra, launched a biological attack on Earth. We're trying to get more information, but we lost contact with the Littlefields two hours ago."

"Oh God," Cathy whispered. "Uncle Harry, can you tell…are they alive?"

"I'm not that sensitive, Cathy. Your brother or Luna could tell, but not me. I'm sorry."

"So what does all this mean?" O'Neill asked.

"It means that Earth is likely dead as a viable, living planet," Harry said. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but I've seen too many dead planets to doubt how effective Ra's attacks are. He's tried it with us, but because we were expecting it we were able to stop the infection in its earliest stages. But with Earth…"

The Emperor walked over to a wall dispenser and grabbed a bottle of water. He downed it in one long, gulping swig. When done, he waved his hand around him.

"As you can see, Colonel, my Empire is at war. Every resource I have is dedicated to defeating and destroying the Goa'uld. At first it was a losing proposition, but because I was the only force openly opposing the Goa'uld, more planets rallied to my cause. Some joined us directly, others allied with the Empire. Ship production has increased, and in the past three months we've been able to go on the offensive. That explosion you saw coming in was the very last enemy stronghold on the planet. Once we cleared the last sortie in orbit, we gained control of the planet. It is now a protectorate of Kheb."

"What does that mean for Earth?" Cathy asked.

"It means that I don't have a hell of a lot of ships or people to help your world," he said bluntly. "And if the bioweapon is what I think it is, any type of evacuation will be time-consuming just because we'll have to screen the evacuees."

"But you will help, won't you?" Cathy asked. "You're from Earth, right? Maybe not our Earth, but an Earth just like it. Please, Uncle, you have to help!"

He looked at her until she averted her gaze. "I don't have to do anything," he finally said. "Earth is no longer my concern, Cathy. I am the Emperor of over two billion beings on nine separate worlds—ten including this one. As important as Earth might have been, I have other priorities. The only way I would help Earth is if it became a protectorate of the Empire. And we all know Earth could never even form a consensus under a single government, much less agree to become a protectorate of an extraterrestrial empire."

"But…"

"Doctor Jackson, he's right," Jack finally said. "The US alone would never submit to a foreign power. Do you think China or Russia would? So I get it, we're not getting help. Can you at least get us home?"

The young-faced emperor regarded Jack and then Cathy closely. Finally, he pointed to Doctor Jackson. "You are going back to Kalmah."

Cathy sputtered indignantly. "But…but…"

"Your grandmother's last request was for us to find you and keep you safe," he said with a note of finality that seemed to stifle the young researcher's arguments. "More importantly, your brother asked us to keep you safe. He'll be there to meet you."

Cathy bowed her head. Evidently her brother was the final straw that broke any argument she might have made. "Okay."

"What about me?" O'Neill asked.

Harry regarded him squarely. "You'll be going back to Earth. I'd take you myself, but we have another skirmish flaring that will need my personal attention. However, with Daniel on Kalmah to represent the Throne in Parliament, that freed up someone else."

"Is that my cue?" a lightly pitched, feminine voice called. Jack stared as a thin wisp of a woman with platinum blonde hair in a single long braid walked up the ramp of the ship. She wore armor almost identical to what Harry wore, only obviously designed for a woman.

"Auntie Luna!" Cathy screamed. She flew across the floor of the al'kesh and into the smaller, seemingly younger woman's arms.

As the two women hugged each other and Cathy spoke in a rapid fire barrage of words, Harry made his way to the Colonel. "I suspect the situation on Earth is going to be fairly bad," he said to Jack softly. "That's why Cathy is not going back with you. If the situation deteriorates sufficiently that they would be willing to accept a protectorate status, we might be willing to offer some assistance. But we will only intercede if there is a single voice speaking for the planet as a whole. We will not help individual nation-states."

"We?"

Harry nodded to Luna. "Don't let our appearances fool you, Colonel. We are both older and more experienced than you are. Luna is my wife and Vice Empress. She speaks with my voice and will make the determination on our behalf whether to help Earth or not."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. If your leaders decide to talk, she'll be the one they speak to."

"Not you?"

"Colonel, I lead from the front. I'm not willing to ask my men to enter a fight I'm not willing to join myself. It's why we're winning. We've won this world, now it's time to press further toward Cronus' capital. And when we route Cronus, we'll move on to Apophis. And then the next System Lord, until we defeat Ra himself."

"And then?"

"And then we prepare ourselves for the real Enemy that will follow. Until then, good day, Colonel, and good luck."

He turned to leave the ship. As he did so, he waved a hand and his armor flew across the floor to follow him as if it had a mind of its own. "Luna, be safe," he said. "Cathy, come on. Daniel's eager to chew you out."

Jackson looked from the woman named Luna back to Harry, then leaned over and hugged Luna one more time. She paused as she headed out. "Colonel, I…thank you. Please be safe."

"That's not my job, Doctor. But it's yours, so you do the same. Take care."

Cathy disappeared down the ramp after her Uncle, the emperor. That left he and the young-faced, lithe empress and he alone. "So, come around here often?" he asked.

She smiled, but it was a sad expression. "No."

She wasn't what Jack would call a pretty woman—her eyes were a little too large and she was a little too thin and lacking curves for his taste. Not ugly, but not his taste. However, something about the way she looked at him made him wonder. "So, it's worse than you wanted Doctor Jackson to know, isn't it?"

Mutely, the Vice Empress nodded. "This way, please," she said.

She led him out of the ship. Outside, the orange star seemed to be sinking into the western horizon. She led him from the large, beetle-shaped craft to its much, much smaller cousin a few spaces down. The breeze that blew was on the verge of being hot. Jack started sneezing immediately.

"The planet has a spore-producing plant that some people are highly allergic to," Luna said as she led him up the ramp and into the smaller craft. The moment the door closed behind them, Jack's sneezing fit faded. "This is a tel'tak. It is smaller and lacking in the armament of an al'kesh. The al'kesh are necessary for the war effort, but this ship is primarily used for executive transport when a stargate is not available. Come."

She led him to a smaller cockpit than what he saw in the al'kesh. She settled into the pilot's seat and then moved the seat up to its closest setting because of her diminutive size. Jack took the other seat.

"How bad it is?"

"I have several agents on your world," she said.

Jack raised a brow, but she didn't seem to care as she activated the small ship and effortlessly lifted them off. "While my husband has largely written Earth off, my sister wife and I have always kept an eye on Earth. We were, all of us, born in Britain and never wanted to see her harmed."

"You rule a space empire, but you're from Britain?"

She laughed softly. "If that blows your mind, Colonel, just imagine what you'll think when I tell you that I was born in 1981, but I'm forty-seven years old. The last time I saw you, I held a lightsaber to your neck and threatened to cut your head off."

"That didn't happen," Jack said flatly.

"No, it didn't. We were sent back in time, Colonel O'Neill, by powers that you could not imagine, in order to change history and save the Universe from a terrible threat. That's why we rule an Empire, and why eventually our Empire will span the galaxy. But because of our origins on Earth, we've always kept agents there to appraise us of the situation."

"And?"

They broke through the planet's atmosphere and almost instantly speared into a swirling tunnel of blue light. "Your world is dead, Colonel," she said softly.

Jack took a deep breath. "A little more information would be appreciated."

"My agent is positioned in one of the remaining centers of information left on the planet. The projected loss is approaching more than 90 percent of Earth's entire population. I'm not even sure Harry knows the extent of it. I received my last update just minutes before I gated to this world. That, Colonel, is why I'm coming with you. What my husband said is still true—we will only negotiate if Earth speaks with a single voice. I am coming with you to ensure they do just that. Even if I have to knock heads to ensure it."


	42. Childhood's End

A/N: Chap 42 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thank you for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-Two: Childhood's End**

"So they'll kick us off the ship if you don't go," Karin summarized as her husband Gerry told her about his mission.

Gerry nodded somberly. Rachel, fortunately, was still sound asleep in the lower of their two bunks. Other people had already been assigned the bunks in their corner but were topside trying to gasp a few lungsful of air. Karin had to admit the air within the ship was awful just because of all the people in it, but at least they had some privacy to talk.

"I don't know how long I'll be gone, but it'll probably be days," Gary admitted. "We're going to start in South Korea."

"Do you think it will help?" Karin asked.

Gerry ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't know, Karin. The first report of the zombies came from South Korea, so that's what people are fixating on. But Thierri said that it was global, and that it spread to parts of Africa and the Americas that it shouldn't have been able to infect so quickly if it was just a single disease vector. I don't think it's terrestrial at all, not after that blast in Colorado."

"Are you going to tell anyone? Shouldn't we tell someone?"

Gerry had known his wife for seven years. She'd been his wife for six of those years. But what most of their friends and colleagues in New York didn't realize was that they had only lived on Earth for the past two years of their marriage, since Rachel was born. Those five years on an alien world were some of the oddest and yet most joyful that Gerry had ever known.

He'd never had friends as close as the men and women he taught with, largely because of how strange the world was around them. Since they had returned to Earth to start their family, everything had seemed distant somehow. Unreal.

Despite that, it just didn't seem possible for the two parts of their lives to intersect. What she was suggesting seemed at once impossible and yet frighteningly plausible. But what made him suspicious was the way she kept patting Rachel's back. Since their daughter had been born, she only did that when she was nervous.

Not scared, but nervous.

"Babe, you're not telling me something."

Karin turned around and looked at their little girl. "It didn't seem that big of a deal," she whispered. "And the pay was really good. How the hell do you think we could afford an apartment on Manhattan on your salary alone?"

"Your writing…"

"Didn't pay much at all," she admitted.

"Karin, what are you trying to tell me?"

With a sigh, she stepped past him to her assigned locker and the backpack within it. After a few minutes of digging, she removed a fist-sized silver ball with a single glowing red dot. Gerry stared at it in silence for almost thirty seconds, unable to speak. Finally, whispering so harshly his voice cracked, he said, "You're a spy?"

Karin looked over her shoulder at the press of people moving nearby. "No," she said. "Not really. I'm more of a…reporter. I swear, Gerry, I've never once tried to find out anything that wasn't in the papers or on CNN. I promise. They didn't ask me to, not ever. They just asked a handful of us who just returned home to report current events once in a while so they could keep abreast of what's happening, that's all."

"And you reported the explosion?"

"They already knew, Gerry. Someone in the Government activated a stargate here. That's what started all this, I'm sure of it. Especially that explosion in Colorado."

Gerry sank down to the floor and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. "Karin, _billions_ have died."

"I know." She sank down to the floor beside him. "Babe, they're coming here. One of the Tripartite. We've got to tell someone. They could help us. They could help the whole world."

Gerry stared at the tips of his work boots. "You've been spying this whole time."

"Gerry, I wasn't doing anything illegal!" Karin insisted. "Hell, one time I just set the thing in front of the TV and set it on CNN for an hour. Stop changing the subject."

"Do we know who's coming? Is it the Akai'kheb?"

"I don't think so. It'll probably be the Lady Luna."

"Luna, who can read minds and runs a spy network," he muttered. Karin hit his arm, hard. "Ow!"

"I am not a spy," Karin hissed angrily. "And I've had enough of you saying it. Gerry, we're on a military ship in the middle of a crises. If they heard you, they'd have me shot and you know it. So shut up and help me think of what to do next. There's no point in you going on this mission if it's a Goa'uld weapon, is there?"

"We have to talk to Thierri," he finally decided. "Both of us."

"What about Rachel?"

He glanced at their daughter before pushing himself to his feet with sudden decisiveness. He turned around and looked down at her, his face pensive. "What else?" he asked.

She frowned up at him, fighting an urge to kick him when she understood the question. "What, you think my saying 'I do' was a lie, Gerry? That having our daughter together was a trick? I never lied to you. NEVER!"

"Mommy, why you mad?" Rachel asked.

Both parents turned to see their daughter staring intently at them with wide, frightened eyes. "Don't worry 'bout it, Rach," Gerry said as he lifted her out of bed and held her at his hip. "Mommy and Daddy are just talking, that's all." He glanced back down at where his wife still sat on the floor before offering her a hand. "Come on, we need to talk to Thierri."

They found their friend a few minutes later on the hangar deck where Gerry left him. He was at the table filled with researchers. A new addition was a large global map with red thumbtacks and post-it notes marking the first reported cases of what they were now calling the zombie virus.

"There is no way an identical strain could simultaneously evolve on every inhabited continent at the same time!" One of the younger researchers shouted. He, like the others, appeared exhausted and unshaven. "Taking into account time zones, there is less than two hours between that first report in South Korea and the report from Venezuela. Even the Hawaiian Islands and the Indonesian Islands were affected just two hours later. It can't be a coincidence. It has to have been introduced."

"You're saying this was a weapon?" a woman at the end of the table said, aghast. "Doctor Fassbach, do you realize what you're saying? What country could even have the technical expertise to deliver a strain like this world wide so quickly?"

"If it were delivered from orbit, the US; Russia; China."

"That's preposterous," another researcher said.

"It takes the space shuttle roughly an hour and a half to orbit the earth," Fassbach pointed out. "Roughly the time between the first report in Korea and the first report in Venzuela. The report from the Hawaiian Islands came just minutes after that."

"Sounds like they've figured it out already," Karin whispered as the young family approached.

"Yeah." Gerry locked eyes with Thierri, who though an accomplished medical doctor was not actively taking part in the discussion so much as chairing it. He stood and left the table; the other researchers barely noticed.

"Have you decided to go?" he asked when he reached them.

"About that…" Gerry began. "We need to talk to you in private. It's important."

Thierri looked over his shoulder at the on-going discussion, then at the flag officers talking nearby, before nodding. "Alright, this way."

He led them to a small ready-room just off the hangar deck that was crowded with a workstation and shelves of manuals. There was only one chair which Thierri motioned for Karin. She accepted it, and then took their daughter on her lap.

"So, listen, we sort of lied about where we were teaching ESL on our resumes," Gerry began.

They spoke for the next twenty minutes in quiet hushed tones. Thierri listened intently, asking a few questions but for the most part just letting them speak. When they were done Thierri simply sat and stared at them.

"That's a lot to take in," he summarized at last. "And it will be very difficult to prove without some type of evidence."

"We'll have that as soon as _they_ get here," Karin said. "What we were hoping for, though, is maybe to help things along."

"And if it is a Goa'uld weapon, there's no point in my going on a suicide mission," Gerry pointed out.

Thierri stared hard at him. "You know the admiral will think it's a just a ploy for you to stay on the ship."

Gerry sighed. "Yeah, I know. That's why we came to you first. What that researcher was saying makes sense with what we think happened."

Thierri paced across the small office, only two or three steps per turn. "There is also the very real question of who is in charge. Admiral Mullenaro is operating without any civilian oversight right now under martial law. He is in essence a dictator. He could throw us all in the brig, or worse yet, throw us off the ship, and there would be no legal recourse at all. That's not even touching on the questions of who would be authorized to speak to an extraterrestrial government on behalf of the planet. From what I understand, the US government is actually in better shape than most, and the president, vice president and cabinet are all dead. We think there may be a senator alive in Wyoming, but we can't get to him."

"So for this to work, we have to get Mullenaro on board first," Gerry said. "What do you make of the man?"

Thierri frowned. "Merciless. He's been turning away anyone who is not mission critical, even if that means sending them back to the mainland. In essence, he's sentencing non-essential personnel to death if there isn't room for them aboard any of the civilian ships around us. His first thought will be that you are trying to escape your duties and should be removed from the ship."

Before anyone could speak, they heard a loud beeping. "Mama, what's that?" Rachel asked.

Karin dug into her slacks and removed the orb. "Someone's calling us," she said, glancing first at Gerry, then at Thierri.

"Then we should answer it," Thierri said calmly.

Karin placed it on the office desk and touched her thumb to the red dot. A moment later a familiar face appeared over the orb. " _Hello, Karin, dear. Are you, Gerry and Rachel well?"_

Karin covered her mouth but nodded. "Yes, your majesty."

" _Who is that with you?"_

"My name is Thierry Umuntoni, I am an assistant deputy director of the World Health Organization, a division of the United Nations. To whom am I speaking?"

" _I have many titles, but for now you may call me Luna. Formal introductions can come when I arrive, which should be within the next few hours. Has anything happened since you last called, Karin?"_

"Just more people dying, Majesty. We're on a navy ship, and the admiral was going to send Gerry out on a fact-finding mission to South Korea."

" _That would do very little but get Gerry killed,"_ Luna said. " _Mr. Umuntoni, who is in charge?"_

"That would be Admiral Andrew Mullenaro, United States Navy. So far, no ranking civilian or elected officials have been recovered. The Admiral has been working well with UN and WHO specialists who are trying to identify and combat the illness."

The small, glowing face frowned. " _Mr. Umuntoni, please listen closely. It is not an illness to be cured; it is a weapon to be survived. You are facing a highly sophisticated, genetically engineered fungal spore equipped with self-replicating bio-mechanical machines called nanites. The spores were distributed across the entire planet from low orbit—most humans alive are likely infected. Those with weakened immune systems fall victim first and then speed activation of the other infected through their bites. In otherwise healthy victims the spores remain dormant for a period of six months to a year before activating spontaneously. The spores carry the nanites, which control the behavior of those infected. Once symptomatic, there is no cure because the victim is already brain dead and being wholly controlled by the nanites. We do have a means of removing the spores from the non-symptomatic, but it is a painful process."_

Karin could see Thierri process the information quickly. "Madam, if I understand what you are saying, we are all infected but non-symptomatic."

" _That is correct. This weapon was not designed to weaken you; it was designed to eradicate your entire species. Unfortunately, it is very good at its intended purpose. I have walked on worlds it has killed before. The only hope for humanity on earth is if they are evacuated through a purification system."_

"Which you have?"

" _I will have to create it, but I do have the means, yes."_

"I am assuming there are conditions for your assistance?"

" _Unfortunately, yes. Please take notes…"_

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Admiral Mullenaro looked like he had not slept in days. For all Karin knew, he hadn't. He didn't look like a particularly friendly man to begin with, but now he looked down-right angry as he listened to Doctor Andrew Fassbach explain his latest findings.

Around the table, the other WHO researchers stared with gaping jaws. One woman was quietly wiping away tears because, more than the admiral, they understood exactly what Fassbach was saying.

"The fungal spore cell membranes appear to contain cholesterol instead of ergosterol like most fungal cell walls. Any antifungal agent we introduce would completely miss these spores, and any attempt to adjust the targeting would result in healthy cells also being attacked. They are essentially disguised as human cells. No antifungal, antiviral or antibacterial agent will affect them, nor will any vaccine help." He sighed tiredly.

"So let me get this right," the Admiral said in a hoarse, ill-used voice. "There is no cure, and we're all going to die."

"Our only line of inquiry is to find some way of preventing the core material from activating," Fassbach said. "But it will require better facilities than what we have here."

"Admiral, there may be another option," Thierri said carefully, fully aware of how close to breaking Mullenaro was. "My colleagues and I have recently been in touch with a foreign government that believes it might be able to assist. In all honesty, it was they who were able to identify the nature of the illness."

Mullenaro sat up, while the other researchers stared. Fassbach coughed nervously. "How did they know?" the Admiral demanded.

"I'm not sure of all the details, but…" He turned to Gerry.

"My wife and I worked for this government for five years before moving to New York," Gerry explained. "During that time, they were at war with a pretty evil regime—a regime that practiced genocide and slavery in large scale. We think it was this regime that introduced the fungus as a biological weapon."

"Who the hell are we talking about?" Mullenaro said.

Karin's orb began to beep again. Mullenaro and the rest stared as she handed Rachel over to her husband and took the orb out. With one more nervous glance, she activated the orb and placed it on the table. A hologram of Luna's blonde face appeared over the table to the surprise of everyone there.

" _Hello, Admiral_ ," the head said.

"What kind of prank is this?" Mullenaro snapped.

" _It is no prank, Admiral, I can see and hear you just fine. My name is Luna Potter. I am a head of state representing an empire of over two billion people. I wish to speak with you and your colleagues about the current state of your world, and what steps we can take to save those of your people who are still alive. I also have a stray Air Force colonel who I will be returning. Therefore I request permission to come aboard._ "

The admiral looked at the table. "What the hell is going on?"

"Grant her permission, Admiral," Thierri said with quiet intensity. "She may be the only hope we have."

The Admiral stared at Gerry's boss for one full minute. "You vouch for her?"

"If I must, then yes."

He glanced from Thierri back to the orb. "Permission granted."

Before the Admiral could move to let his marines know they had someone approaching, Luna appeared in a corner of the briefing room with the Air Force colonel and a loud pop. The colonel staggered until he hit a wall. "What the hell was that?"

"Teleportation, Colonel," she said airily. "Now, before we…oh, Karin, dear, she's adorable!"

The standing, confused and furious admiral stared, dumbfounded, as the intruder ignored everyone at the table and rushed over to Karin and Gerry Lane and his daughter. Rachel started jabbering away as the woman lifted the toddler up into her arms.

Smiling wryly, Gerry stood up as well now that he was free. "Admiral Mullenaro, may I introduce Her Divine and Eternal Majesty, The Lady Luna, Vice Empress of the Holy Empire of Kheb."

"And Rachel," Luna added. She took the smiling toddler's hand and had her wave. "Say hello to the poor, doomed admiral."

"Hewoh, Doom," Rachel said.

Mullenaro simply stared, until his eyes found a focus of something more earthly. "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, Air Force Special Operations Command, formerly out of Hurlburt Field, Florida, on special assignment to Peterson."

"And what are you doing here, Colonel?" Mullenaro demanded.

"Well, my old base evidently got blowed up, sir," O'Neill said with heavy sarcasm and very intentionally bad English.

Bouncing Rachel on her hip, the empress smiled up at the table. "To give you a brief summary, Admiral, due to actions of the United States government, the Earth has been targeted by a very powerful and hostile alien government. The initial attack was Colorado. The biological attack followed. Ordinarily, they would have come with a fleet of capital ships and glassed the planet surface, but they couldn't do that this time."

"And why is that?" Mullenaro said without a shred of belief.

"Because all their ships are currently engaged in firefights with my Empire. The Empire of Kheb, of which I am Vice Empress, is engaged in a shooting war with a regime of aliens known as the System Lords. When Colonel O'Neill's team arrived on a System Lord stronghold, they made Earth a target."

"Aliens," Mullenaro said in a flat tone.

"And spaceships," O'Neill added. "Don't forget the spaceships, with big honking space guns and…yeah." He ended lamely as he noticed everyone staring at him.

"And you're going to prove all this how?" Mullenaro asked.

"Dr. Fassbach here has already proven the nature of the bioweapon the Goa'uld deployed," Luna said in a matter-of-fact tone. "As for proving my identity—I just teleported into this room. What would you like to see next? Do you want me to levitate the table? Blast a hole in the walls of this room?"

"Perhaps you can cure us of this agent," Fassbach said.

"Very well," Luna said. "I warn you, however, that it _will_ hurt."

She raised her left hand, revealing the hand device within it, and the red gem in her palm flared. Fassbach screamed as shimmering energy slammed into him, lifting him bodily from his chair and slamming him into the wall behind him. The others at the table backed away in terror and Mullenaro started screaming for the marines, but Luna simply stood with her outstretched hand for ten long, horrible seconds before she dropped her hand.

Fassback collapsed in a heap to the ground, gasping and moaning in pain. Some of his colleagues started to move toward him, but Luna shouted. "Stop! If you touch him, you _will_ re-infect him. At the moment, he is the only man on his ship with spores that have been rendered permanently inert." She waved a hand and from thin air a bulky biohazard suit appeared out of nowhere.

"Climb in it quickly, Doctor Fassbach, and then go test yourself. When you have confirmed that you are cured, let the admiral and your colleagues know."

With shaking hands, Fassbach nodded and climbed into the suit before he stumbled from the room. Into the stunned silence that followed, Luna looked intently at each person until finally she settled on Rachel.

"I wish, more than any of you could know, that there was a better way," she told them all, though her eyes seemed to dwell on the little girl. "There is a means that will allow you to evacuate this planet. The Empire of Kheb currently controls nine worlds directly, and you will be evacuated to one of these worlds. However, it will be necessary for every single person to go through the pain Dr. Fassback just experienced in order to be cured of the spores. Even children."

She locked her eyes back on Mullenaro. "You can give pain medication, but I would recommend it only for the young. You have no infirm left—the spores will have seen to that. However, as Doctor Fassbach will confirm, there _is_ a cure. Therefore, there is hope. But there is a condition to our help. The Empire of Kheb is at war. We cannot and will not extend resources to a potentially belligerent people. Therefore, the only way we will assist you is if the Earth as a single government surrenders all sovereignty to the Empire of Kheb and accepts a protectorate status."

As she spoke, the air around her began to shimmer and radiate heat. "My charge to you, Admiral Mullenaro, and those in this room, is to contact as many survivors as you can, agree to a single representative to speak on behalf of the Earth, and ensure that representative has sufficient authority to sign what will be a legally binding contract for all the people of your world."

"And if we don't?" Mullenaro said.

"Then you will die free, but you will still die," Luna said.

Suddenly the glow ended. "Not you, though, dears," Luna said to the Lanes. "I understand your old house on Kalmah is still available if you want to come home. I can make sure dear Rachel is unconscious for her treatment."

"Babe, you and Rach go," Gerry said. "I'll stay here in case they have any questions, or if I can help."

"Gerry, what about…?"

"He's right, dear," Luna said to Karin, cutting her off. "Your daughter is more important. Let's go get your things. Mr. Umuntoni, I will leave this communication orb with you. I would prefer they select you to represent the planet as I don't particularly care for military leaders, but the Empire of Kheb firmly believes in Free Will, even the freedom to die if that is your choice. So they will decide what they will decide."

With that, Luna gestured for Karin and Rachel, and seconds later the three disappeared.

In the silence that followed, Colonel O'Neill clapped his hands again and smiled without humor. "Well, that was fun. What'll we do now?"


	43. A Second Chance

A/N: Chap 42 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-Three: A Second Chance**

Sweat beaded on Rachel's brow as she turned and whimpered in her sleep, but fortunately she did not wake up. Nearby, her mother Karin Lane was still fighting for breath from her own treatment. "What was that?" she asked.

"Magic, dear," Luna said sadly as she dabbed the toddler's head with a cold, conjured cloth. "We have to bombard the spores with magic. It destroys the nanites and renders the spores inert. Over the next day or so, your body will simply flush them out of your system. I wish there were a better way, but it is the only thing we found that works."

"Where did the Goa'uld try it in the Empire?"

"They tested it first on Farber, hoping to introduce it to a protected world through the gate. Fortunately Daniel was there and sensed the threat quickly enough to institute quarantine procedures. We only lost a few hundred people. Kalhu was more deadly though—almost a million people died before we were able to stop the infection. It was on Kalhu that we developed a specific procedure for it."

Around them, the tel'tak hummed as they floated under a cloak directly over the _USS Theodore Roosevelt_. "Do you think they'll agree?" Karin asked.

"I don't know," Luna said sadly. "We demanded a lot in return for our help. Some nations would agree more readily than others, but for the powers such as the US, Russia and China, the surrender of their sovereignty will be a difficult pill to swallow."

"Then why make them do it?" Karin asked, fighting back tears. "Why make them surrender at all if you can help them?"

Luna left the sleeping toddler and sat down on the cushioned bench beside Karin. "We learned quite a lot from Hebridan, Karin. We learned that a proud people must be ready to accept help before it can be given. More importantly, we learned that a people must accept their place in an Empire for the Empire to function. Given the American propensity of rebellion and protest, and the very nature of our Empire, bringing in that type of society before it is ready is a recipe for disaster. We cannot risk civil unrest as we're fighting the Goa'uld. We _will_ not."

"Why not just give us another world?"

"Because you cannot defend yourselves against the Goa'uld," Luna said. "And we are not going to arm you to do so, when those arms could someday be used against us. I want to help your people, Karin, more than you know. But my first responsibility is to my husband and the Empire we've founded. If the people of Earth surrender, then my responsibility will extend to them as well. But only if they make that choice."

Karin sniffed loudly before looking down at her feet. "Thank you, for Rachel. And me."

Luna smiled sadly and held the distraught woman. "Oh dear, even if I can't save everyone, I will try to save those I can. Speaking of, there are more friends I need to try and find. Rachel will sleep for an hour more. Come."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

In a ship that could make orbit, the flight from the waters off the North American seaboard to Switzerland only took twenty minutes. Because of the risk of re-infection, Luna instructed Karin to stay in the hovering ship while she ringed down to the surface, intending to conserve her magic in the event she was attacked, or had to cure a number of people.

She smiled sadly when she saw the cottage where Catherine and Ernest Littlefield made their home after their retirement. It was, Luna knew, exactly what the elder pair wanted. The lake beyond shimmered in the moonlight.

Luna knew, looking at the house, what she would find. She went anyway, though, the air around her shimmering with her Goa'uld-style personal shield. She could not sense the infected since they were not technically alive and did not wish to risk any sneaking up on her. The fungus could not survive the Elixir in her blood, but the infection would debilitate her for hours if she was bitten. This she knew from Hermione's experiences on Kalhu.

She needn't have worried, though. The smell in the house assured her that the owners were not going to rise again.

She found the former Catherine Langsford carefully arrayed in a plush loveseat looking through a bay window out onto the lake. Rot had already begun after several days, but the large bullet wound in her temple gave clear evidence of her death. Beside her, less posed, collapsed Ernest, the gun still in his hand and a similar wound in his own temple.

When Luna looked closer under the moonlight shining through the window, she saw a bite mark on Catherine's arm.

"Oh my dearest friends," she whispered. She wept for them, not so much that they had died, but for what Ernest had been forced to do. "I'm so sorry."

She made her way through the house until she found the younger Cathy's room. A quick search found a suitcase which she expanded. With a sweep of her kara'kesh, she swept all of Cathy's possessions into the expanded suitcase. She then went through collecting pictures from the house and other knick-knacks that she or Daniel might have wanted. When she stepped out of the house, she heard shuffling in the distance and a clicking sound, like someone snapping their teeth together.

A second later, she was in the tel'tak next to a startled Karin. "The Littlefields were together, at least," she said sadly. She took her seat at the pilot's station and activated the small ship's single laser cannon.

It took only three shots to obliterate the home and catch the surrounding area on five. Given the annual rainfall, she doubted the fire would burn long or far, but it seemed fitting to see her oldest friends off in fire.

"What do we do now?" Karin asked as she sank into the co-pilot's seat. Rachel was once more on her lap, though now sleeping peacefully.

"Two things. First, I will need to call Kalmah for some additional hardware. Secondly, if I remember correctly, Earth was the only planet we know of that had two Stargates. We need to find the second, since I have no doubt the first was destroyed."

"Two?" Karin asked. "How does that work?"

"Earth was the first planet in this galaxy to be colonized by the Ancients millions of years ago. If you saw the Ancients, they would be almost identical to yourself. The difference was that they had some abilities, toward the end of their mortal existence, similar to those of my family. We believe that the Ancients interbred with some early humans, or otherwise manipulated humanity, to ensure that we would be able take their place. We are the heirs of the Ancients."

Karin had nothing to say to that as Luna took the Tel'tak south.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Ships under French, Spanish, German, English, and even Russian flags gathered within shooting distance of the coast of Cuba. Nor were all military—thousands of vessels swarmed around the larger military craft. Luxury yachts and cruise liners floated next to corporate fishing boats. It was the largest single formation of ships in the history of the world.

The formation also represented the largest concentration of humanity left on the planet. More ships were coming as well—a similar sized fleet from the Pacific was making its way around Cape Horn slowly due to the hazardous sailing conditions in the southern winter. The Panama Canal had been abandoned, a line of ships stranded in the various locks throughout the isthmus.

Among the massive fleet of ships near Cuba was the MS _Sovereign_ , a four-year-old luxury cruise liner operated by the Royal Caribbean. It was on this ship that the remnants of the world's nations met. Included were officials airlifted to the _Roosevelt_ from the Japanese, Chinese, Indian, Venezuelan and Australian fleets that were even then en route.

The most senior surviving official of any country was a Chinese Chairman whose nominal ranking as 4th in his country essentially made him the General Secretary of the nation. Most nations, however, had few if any surviving members of their various governmental structures. Most of the people who gathered for the emergency meeting were essentially political professionals appointed to their positions, or military officers who represented the last of their governments.

By default, it was Thierri Umuntoni who chaired the raucous meeting and tried to keep the fighting to a minimum. However, discussions came to a grinding halt several times as the delegates came to physical blows.

However, all discussions paused as every delegate made their way to the deck of the cruiser to watch as the kilometer-wide pyramid sank down through the afternoon clouds of that momentous summer day. More than a few people fainted at the sight of the ha'tak as it floated imperiously down until it hovered just a few hundred meters above the cruise liner itself. The air around it buzzed with military helicopters and jets.

Two figures floated down from the pyramid, each seemingly encased in an envelope of blue flame. Only as they alit gently on the foremost deck of the luxury liner did those watching see that they were in fact two young, reasonably attractive women in matching silver armor. Thierri recognized the blonde one as Luna, though the one with the curly brunette hair he did not recognize.

The two women walked calmly through the stunned delegates, flying up the various decks as if they were angels, until they reached Thierri himself. "Mr. Umontoni," Luna said. "It is good to see you again." Through magic, her voice boomed across the deck of the cruiser and even many of the surrounding ships. "This is my sister, the Vice Empress Hermione. The two of us speak for the Empire of Kheb. It is our hope that seeing proof of who and what we are will help the survivors of the human race come to a consensus. It would be a tragedy if the surviving leaders of the planet were unable to come to an accord and condemned your entire world to die."

Thierri had a hard time breathing. The air around each of the alien women shimmered from a very real heat that he could feel despite the warm day. A quick glance around showed he was not the only one. "Thank you for coming," he managed to say. "And for the opportunity you have offered us. The conditions you have imposed are difficult for many, but perhaps if you address the assembled delegates, you might be able to address some of these concerns."

"We'll be glad to address the delegates in thirty minute's time," Hermione said. Her voice too burst through the fleet. "Until then, please gather and prepare your questions."

Each woman disappeared with a pop and flash of blue flame.

They each reappeared moments later in their private quarters at the very tip of the ship floating above the fleet. The moment they did so, Hermione frowned. "I hate playing the divinity card."

"We both know they wouldn't even agree to hear us if we didn't," Luna pointed out. "Most of the leadership down there were middle-aged men, and we look like teen-aged girls. But I refuse to just let them kill themselves."

Hermione nodded. The ship she arrived in was severely damaged in one of the many engagements against the Goa'uld. It held only a single al'kesh, and now Luna's tel'tak, but no other fighters. Only two of its staff cannons even worked. Its shields were at half power, though its hyperdrive still worked. It held a skeleton crew and five repair teams that were even then working to keep if intact.

It was all Harry was able to spare from the war to save Earth.

Hermione drifted to a window over-looking the ocean and the thousands of ships that floated under them. "The sensors detected less than a billion people left alive," she said. "And the number is still dropping fast."

"I know." Luna walked up beside her before putting an arm around the taller woman's waist and leaning on her. "I found Catherine and Ernest. They died together, at least."

Hermione bowed her head. "So much death. All because General West wouldn't listen."

"I wasn't there, but I seem to recall our old Headmaster warning you and Harry not to go to the third floor corridor. Somehow you ended up doing that anyway. It could have meant your deaths. I think…I think we made a mistake in not helping them explore safely. Or maybe normalizing relations."

"But we wouldn't have normalized relations with the Earth, just one nation on it," Hermione pointed out, though she didn't actually reject what Luna was saying. "Now there are no more nations."

Luna nodded, though she continued to hold her sister wife. "We are going to have to awe them, Hermione. We're going to have to act the part of alien goddesses and display power like we rarely do. We have to make them understand that they are coming to us for help, and the help will only come on our terms."

"So keep up the heating charms on our armor?" Hermione said wryly.

"Oh, I think we need the full effect. Heat, blue-bell halos—the works. While it may not work well on the Americans and western Europeans, it will have a profound impact on the other nations. We may even be required to show Force. That's why I wanted you here."

As the decades had passed, the Tripartite had each grown more powerful within their specific areas. Hermione was nearly as lethal on the battlefield as Harry himself was now, while Luna could pick out thoughts from almost anyone. Luna could produce Force lightning, but not nearly on the scale Hermione could, while Harry's now was numbing in its intensity. Together, the two could almost fight Harry to a standstill if they needed. They were, in all things, stronger together than apart.

And Luna wanted that strength to face the shattered remnants of their home world.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The grand ballroom of the luxury liner was an odd place to hold an emergency meeting of what amounted to the United Nations. The gaudy, gilded decorations of the room did little to lend confidence to the continuity of the human race, or those destined by luck to lead it. Nonetheless, the delegates had taken the various dining tables in the space and formed a large oval around which to speak.

Microphones were passed around for speakers since the ship did not have one for every delegate. When the delegates were not fighting, the lack of microphones actually forced a level of civility on them since they literally had to take turns to be heard. However, no one spoke when half an hour had passed since the arrival of the ship over their heads. The room bristled not just with delegates, but with the officers of the various navies that had arrived. Marines from a dozen countries ringed the outer walls of the rooms as they waited.

A few minutes after half an hour had passed the air in the center of the oval formation of tables burst in a billow of blue flame. When it faded, the two seemingly young, beautiful women stood floating a foot off the floor. Each was wreathed in halos of blue flame and heat radiated off them so strongly every delegate could feel it.

Each drifted gently to the floor and regarded Thierry Umuntoni at the head of the oval. Luna noted that Gerry Lane sat to his right.

"Your Divine Majesties," Umuntoni said as he rose to his feet and bowed. "On behalf of the delegates of Earth, I thank you for coming. If it pleases your majesties, the delegates have instructed me to ask a series of questions so that we can better understand the current situation. Is this agreeable?"

"It is," Hermione said.

"While my colleague Mr. Lane as provided us all with some preliminary information, everyone here would like to know, first and foremost, what you and your fellow Vice Empress are."

Hermione nodded before turning slowly to examine each of the delegates. "Once, almost half a century ago, my sister and I were born to men and women not so dissimilar to you. We were born with the ability to manipulate the world around us with what you could only call magic. However, when we were still in our teens, extraordinary forces elevated us even beyond the level of those we were born into, bringing us onto the edge of a state of being bordering the physical and the spiritual. We are functionally immortal, having not aged since our teen-age years. And we are both bound in marriage to the Akai'Kheb, the Bridge Unto Heaven, who straddles the world between the physical and heaven itself. He has been tasked with a terrible and heavy duty to defend the whole of this galaxy against a coming enemy so powerful as to be gods. It was in support of this destiny that we have built the Empire of Kheb."

Thierri was obviously fighting to keep his face straight. "You consider yourselves gods, then?"

"Many of our people do," Luna said. "But our husband has walked with actual gods—beings of energy so powerful they could unmake creation itself. He almost joined them, and chose to remain in his physical form only because the price of his ascension would be too terrible to comprehend. So because we have seen and spoken to true gods, we know we are not. But make no mistake, Thierri, we are far from human, and our mission and purpose is divine."

Thierri sighed before glancing down at the sheet of questions. "Will you require refugees to worship you, or will they have the freedom to worship as they choose?"

"We will never compel anyone to worship us," Luna said firmly. "And we will actively oppose any who do. We believe in freedom of choice. The choices may not always be palatable, but at the end it must be you who choose what to believe and what to do. We are not here to make you surrender. If you tell us to leave, we will do so. You will die as a result, but not by any agency of ours. It will be your choice to die, and we will accept that."

So the questions went. What proof could they provide that Kheb was not responsible for the illness? Where would they go? How would they be cured? What would happen to Earth after they were gone? The most pertinent, though, was the last.

"Finally, and we thank you for your patience, what would become of us in your Empire?"

This last question brought all whispering and side discussions to a halt. The two Vice Empresses, whose voices carried to every inch of the space as clearly as if they were everywhere at once, both nodded at the expected question.

"While all authority within the Empire flows from the Tripartite Throne, we recognize that the governed must have a voice," Hermione said. "We again are not gods; we make no claim of omnipotence nor omniscience. We depend on the people themselves to share their needs and wants with us. For this reason the Empire is governed in part by a Parliament made up of representatives of each world. The Parliament has two houses similar in structure to the American Senate and House of Representatives."

Luna picked up right where Hermione stopped: "If the people of Earth accept a protectorate status, you will be made a part of the Empire. You would be given a newly reclaimed world to colonize—one that suffered the same fate as Earth, but only a thousand years ago—and you would immediately be given seats in Parliament according to your surviving population. Additionally, you would have the right to self-government within the context of Imperial law, in much the same way the states of the United States had local governance within a federal framework. We stress this, however. There would be no division of nation states such as the Earth previously had and no standing military allowed. Such divisions are pointless in the larger galactic community and within the Empire, and will not be tolerated."

When they were done, Thierri stood once again. "Your majesties, we once again thank you for your time. That is all the questions we had. Is there anything you would add or ask of us?"

"Only to express our deepest sorrow and sympathy," Luna said. "Earth is not the only world to suffer devastation at the hands of the Goa'uld System Lords. It is, truly, why we fight them, and why we will destroy them—so that no other people will suffer as you have. I hope you will join us. I think the people of Earth could make the Empire of Kheb even stronger. And it is in that hope that we take our leave. You have the means to contact us should you accept our proposal."

"We do, thank you," Umuntoni said with a half-bow.

"Until then," Hermione said. A second later, both women disappeared in a billow of blue flame.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

One day later, Luna accepted a call from the communications orb and found herself studying the exhausted features of Thierry Umuntoni.

"Your majesty," he said in greeting. "After extensive discussion, we are pleased to announce the formation of the United Nations of Earth. I have been granted a temporary appointment as the Prime Minister for the duration of the crises. As such, on behalf of the people of this world, I formally petition the Empire of Kheb for admittance as a protectorate of the Empire."

"I'm very glad to hear that, my friend," Luna said, not bothering to hide her relief. "Please instruct all ships to make their way to Norfolk Naval Station. We will be establishing an evacuation and processing center there. Additionally, a diplomatic team will be there to finalize negotiations for your entry into the Empire."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"And Thierry—I'm glad they chose you. I think you will be the leader your people need."

He smiled wanly and nodded before terminating the connection. Luna turned to look across the room where Hermione lounged on the bed they shared, reading reports. "We're going to need some help clearing out Norfolk."

Hermione didn't look up. "I've already informed Tel'gat to send a team," she said absently. She looked at her sister wife. "Harry took Knosis."

Luna nodded absently, her mind still on all the work they would have to do to save the people of Earth. However, it sank in a moment later. "He took Cronus' homeworld?"

"The Tok'ra managed to infiltrate enough defense stations that he turned Cronus' own defensive towers on the Goa'uld ships. Harry then blew through with the 3rd Fleet and plastered Cronus' forces. We're not sure Cronus even managed to escape. At least fifteen percent of the population rose up and helped our forces."

"That's extraordinary!" Luna gushed.

Hermione nodded before she put the computer tablet down and stared off into the distance. Luna frowned a she stepped closer. "What's wrong?"

"Catherine is gone," she said dully. "Claire and Melburn, and now Catherine and Ernest. Kisher's wife Mulla died a few months ago. Suna's living with her daughter Sira and her family. They're dying all around us, and here we go on, prancing about like bloody teenagers."

Luna stepped to the bed and climbed over Hermione's feet to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "I feel old, Luna," Hermione whispered. "Not my body, but my spirit. My friends are dying all around me, and there's nothing I can do to save them."

"You still have Harry and me."

Hermione snorted. "We never see each other. When's the last time the three of us had a chance to spend any time together as a family? So much pomp and circumstance has been built up around us, we don't have time to be a family anymore."

"We'll have to see about that, then," Luna said. "After we save what's left of the planet earth."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"It's a damned hard thing, seeing your country end."

Colonel Jack O'Neill turned and looked in surprise as Admiral Mullenaro stepped to his side. The two stood outside the conning tower of the USS _Theodore Roosevelt_ as it made dock at Norfolk Naval Station. Around them, at the other piers, several other ships were unloading their civilians.

What really caught Jack's eyes were the defensive perimeter the Imperials established. The Imperials used speakers set further in the city to lure the infected from the station. The piercing electronic whistle gave Jack a headache, but evidently drove the infected into an absolute frenzy. They swarmed form all over Norfolk by the hundreds of thousands to try and get to the speakers which hung from the bottom of one of the alien beetle-shaped bombers.

When the infected were crawling over themselves in an unbelievably huge pyramid of writhing, rotting flesh, the three alien motherships opened fire. They kept firing for a quarter of an hour, burning a half-mile swatch of glass into the ground around the naval station. When they were done, the three massive ships landed, each within a stone's throw of the other, and somehow created a lattice of shields that the infected, no matter how they tried, could not enter.

The entire procedure took less than half an hour.

It was another two hours before they received permission to begin disembarking, and that was done by population size. The smallest ships with the least amount of provisions were evacuated first. Jack couldn't even see where they were docked, but he knew there were thousands of them hooked up in a series of lines against one the larger piers.

They couldn't even see the Stargate from where the _Roosevelt_ was docked _._

Jack was about to answer when the Admiral stiffened. Jack followed his gaze and saw two Khebbish soldiers walking on the pier. Each wore hermetically sealed helmets with visors that did show their faces, but kept them protected from the spores which unfortunately still lingered all over the planet. But Jack had to admit it was a hard thing seeing alien soldiers walking picket duty in a U.S. Naval base.

A damned hard thing.

A huge blast of sound made Mullenaro and Jack both turn to see the _Roosevelt's_ sister ship, the _Washington_ , being tugged into position against the pier opposite them. Like their own, the ship's deck was filled with thousands of civilians who they had picked up in their long, trip from the gulf. Still more ships were coming from all over the world, and would be arriving over the course of the next few weeks. The _Roosevelt_ herself would return to sea in order to try and save more survivors, as would most of the other military ships as fuel and provisions would allow.

The evacuation was going to take months.

"So, no military where we're going," Mullenaro said after watching the _Washington_ make anchor. "What are you going to be doing after all this?"

O'Neill shrugged. "Don't know. My wife didn't make it, and my boy was already dead. Not much left for me personally. I might join their army. I saw some pretty intense fighting in my few days on the other side of the gate. I'm a rated pilot, they might take me on for one of their fighters."

Their conversation was interrupted by screams from across the pier. Both men straightened and stared in horror as a wave of infected suddenly began sweeping across the flight deck of the _Washington._ Khebbish soldiers began running toward the ship across the quay, but it was the alien gunship that hovered into view that took the most effective and immediate action. It began firing on Washington with broad, powerful shots right into the densest groupings of people, seemingly without regard to lives, until the deck was clear.

More soldiers arrived in their sealed armor and helmets and set up a portable forcefield to separate their pier from the quay. In the silence that followed, the two men could see the smoking, shattered deck of the ship glistening with burned bodies.

Overhead, both men's senses went numb from the bone-deep humming of yet another pyramid ship. The ship was a mile square at the base and dwarfed both supercarriers. As they watched, a curtain of golden light spilled down to surround the _Washington._ Seconds later, the just recently commissioned ship, almost eleven hundred feet from tip to stern, rose up from the water with the loud groaning of metal and the faint but audible screams of those still aboard.

"Oh my God," Mullenaro whispered.

The pyramid ship rose straight up taking the supercarrier with it, until they were not even visible as dots in the sky.

"I was afraid that would happen eventually," a new voice said.

Both officers spun about in alarm to see one of the Vice Empresses standing there in her shimmering armor—the prettier brunette one. She was looking up sadly. Jack tried to remember her name, it was odd. Hermione _,_ was it?

"You killed those people," Mullenaro accused.

"No, admiral, we saved all those they would have infected," she said, utterly calm in the face of the Admiral's anger. "Nor is it the only one we've had to cull. Two of the ships coming up from Cape Horn also had spontaneous infections. Believe me, we went through this with one of our more populous worlds. It is a terrible choice, but as a military commander you must surely understand. Destroy a thousand to save a million? A hundred million? If one infected made it past our blockade into the main population, everything would be lost."

The worst part was that Jack agreed with her. However, he didn't say anything as Mullenaro walked stiff-legged away from the Empress. Fortunately, she didn't appear to be the vengeful type and made no effort to stop him.

"So, your…er, highness. How's Doctor Jackson doing?"

"She's doing as well as can be," Hermione said as she came and stood beside the colonel. Below, yet another supercarrier was being tugged in to position next to the pier. The line of ships extended as far as either could see into the ocean. Despite the tragedy they had just witnessed, there were too many desperate people not to stop their operations. "A bad case of survivor's guilt now that she knows the true extent of the devastation, but her brother is helping her find peace."

Being the first time he'd ever stood so close, Jack was again amazed at just how young she looked. Hermione may have been older than he was, but she looked like a teenager. Granted, she looked like a mature, intelligent and quite beautiful teen-ager, but still a teen. She was staring at the port where the _Washington_ was just moments ago, her lips set in a thin line.

"It never gets easier, you know."

She blinked and stared at him as if she'd forgotten he was there at all. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead turned away again.

"So, er…Princess Luna said you guys knew me?"

This time, Hermione actually snorted. "Princess?" she said, staring at him now with an incredulous expression.

Jack shrugged. "How'm I supposed to know what to call you guys? She said something about alternate timelines and time travel and things that didn't make sense."

"We met in another reality," she said. "Only you were much older and I was much younger. We all were. Things are different this time."

"Better?"

Hermione refused to meet his gaze, instead sweeping her eyes across the devastated land. "I used to think so," she whispered.

Perhaps it was because of how very young and lost she looked, or perhaps Jack really was that stupid, but he found himself resting what he considered a comforting and on her shoulder. The reaction, though, was not what he expected. An invisible force pushed him away so hard he hurt his back on the railing of the gantry. She stared at him, eyes-wide and cheeks flushed. "Colonel O'Neill," she said crisply. "However we might have known each other in a different timeline, in this one I am the Vice Empress of the Empire of Kheb and wife of a man who could not only kill you, but then bring you back to life in order to kill you again. Do not touch me."

With that she spun away and disappeared with a pop.

"Well _excuse_ me," Jack muttered angrily, confused and hurt by more than just the rail against his back. With a sigh he looked back over the other carrier as it began to unload. He knew the _Roosevelt_ would be pulling out as soon as she was refueled to begin rescue and recovery operations overseas. Jack wouldn't be on board when she did. With nothing left to lose, he realized abruptly what he was going to do.

After he made it through that damnable decontamination procedure, of course. He wasn't looking forward to that at all. "Why didn't they give me a damned hazmat suit?" he wondered aloud, not for the first time.


	44. The Betrayer

A/N: Chapter 43 review responses are in my forums like normal. Because of the nature of this chapter, an additional A/N will be at the end.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-Four: The Betrayer**

The System Lords sat in parley in great Heliopolis, the largest city of all the System Lord planets. Atop the great super-ha'tak named _Mandjet,_ docked atop a pyramid of gold and marble, great Lord Ra, Supreme System Lord of the Goa'uld, held court over his brethren.

Along the great oval table on either side sat creatures of legend and myth, all of them thousands of years old. They spoke with the arrogance of ancient beings secure in their power, but they also spoke loudly, like people doing all they could to ignore those who should have been with them, but were not any longer.

Ra sat speaking with his beloved Bastet, daughter and mate, but his eyes were travelling among those system lords that served under him. He did not care for the undercurrent of fear he sensed when he looked at Apophis, the loudest of all those there. His own son Heru'ur showed no signs of that infectious fear, but others did. Svarog and Olokun both had suffered losses to the Great Blasphemer who called himself a Bridge to Heaven. Shiva, treacherous and lethal Shiva, mourned the death of her ancient ally Nirrti, while the Morrigan mourned the loss of her brother Manannan mac Lir, who like Camulus fell to the Khebbish Empire after their stunning route of Cronus.

Ra would never admit that even his own fleet was having difficulty holding ground against the Empire's forces. With those blasted Tollan ion cannons on almost every core world of the Akai'kheb's empire, it was almost impossible to counter-strike. This didn't stop them—after the death of Cronus Ra ordered a massive reprisal against the heart of the empire itself—the planet Kalmah, formerly a farming world of Apophis.

He sent a fleet of two hundred ships, over half of which were from his personal fleet. They did manage to exact some damage, but at staggering cost. They lost fifty ha'tak in the first ten minutes of the engagement and another thirty in the five minutes that followed. Looking at nearly half his fleet lost in less than half an hour, Ra had no choice but to retreat in shamed defeat.

It was after that humiliation that he developed his biological weapon. Though it was less than effective against the two imperial worlds, the devastation Ra wrought on the Tau'ri home world was just enough to salvage his reputation among his fellow Goa'uld.

Unfortunately, that victory was the last clear victory the Goa'uld could claim in the following four years of warfare. Nor were all their defeats purely military. Shiva, Ba'al and Svarog all lost worlds not due to military conquest but by rebellions fostered and armed by the Akai'kheb's insidious agents.

The parley he'd called was officially to plan a unified strategy against the Akai'kheb, but unofficially it was an attempt to bolster the flagging confidence of the System Lords and of Ra's leadership specifically.

One of Ra's _lotar_ shuffled into the great meeting hall with his head bowed and his single braided lock of hair falling over his right shoulder. Ra deigned to glance at the boy and thought of ways to distract himself later that evening, when the others were retired to their various entertainments. Bastet would likely join him.

The boy fell to his knees, head to the floor. "Speak," Ra said.

"An emissary stands at our threshold, Great Lord," the boy said clearly.

"An emissary of whom?"

"He says he speaks for one who can defeat the Akai'kheb, Great Lord."

Though the other System Lords never halted their conversation, Ra had no doubt they were listening, because one by one the other conversations quieted until a heavy silence pervaded the room. Ra could see the boy trembling with fear that his words garnered such attention from his gods.

"We will speak to this emissary," Ra said, knowing full well he had no choice—not now.

"At once, Great Lord," the boy said, climbing back to his feet and backing away, head bowed and eyes on the floor. He turned only when he was more than twenty paces away and ran from the room.

When the great naquedah doors opened, every System Lord sat in posed silence, their ancient eyes watching with interest as a lone Goa'uld walked confidently into the room. He walked to the exact center of the room when Apophis stood, his face warped by indignant rage. "What is the meaning of this betrayal?"

The Goa'uld ignored Apophis and instead bowed directly to Ra.

"Zipacna," Ra said with calm greeting. In doing so, he stole Apophis' rage. "You have changed your allegiance?"

Zipacna bowed again. The Goa'uld had chosen a relatively short host with moderately attractive features but a strong build. It made him look compact and sturdy. "I have, Great Lord. I have much love and respect for Lord Apophis, but it was too much to watch him mourn the loss of his mate and child while my fellows fought and died against the heretics and blasphemers. I sought out a lord willing to fight, and in my travels discovered one not only willing to fight, but one able to win."

"And who is this mighty warrior who can defeat the Akai'kheb?" Ra demanded.

Zipacna bowed. "I speak for the ancient and powerful Anubis."

Ra sat up, eyes glowing in outrage. All around the table, the others did as well. Lord Yu, the only other living Goa'uld who approached Ra in age, rose to his feet nearly trembling. "You dare speak his name in this company?" the ancient shouted. "The betrayer of our first Great King, the devourer of Apep? I should kill you where you stand!"

Ra himself stood. Such was Yu's outrage the Ancient did not sit down, but Ra said nothing of the slight breach or protocol. Yu was ancient and a powerful ally, after all. No, Ra instead focused on Zipacna as he stepped down between the two ends of the tables which formed the oval they ate at.

"Tell me, Zipacna, how a dead blasphemer can defeat a living one?"

The younger Goa'uld bowed again deeply. "As you say, Great Lord. The Lord Anubis admits his crime in the Golden Age of the first Empire. He left System Lord space to learn more of the Ancients whose technology we all use, and he discovered much. He alone knows from whence the Akai'kheb and his companions gained their power, for he has gained a similar power himself. He too can wield the powers of the Ancients from his bare hands. He too can kill with but a thought. More importantly, he has amassed many technologies beyond even our wildest dreams. He could use this power to regain his power from time immemorial, but instead offers it to you, Great Lord, to defeat the enemies of the System Lords."

"Your words mean nothing," Yu snarled, still enraged at the mere thought of the greater which destroyed his sire so many thousands of years ago.

"Indeed," Ra said as he slowly walked around Zipacna, studying him for any signs of treachery. "Words alone will not kill our enemies."

"My master offers a test," Zipacna said. "It is known that the Empire is shielded by Tollan weaponry. By treaty, the Akai'kheb cannot develop his own ion weaponry—it all comes from the Tollan home world."

"So?"

"The Tollan home world recently died of natural causes," Zipacna said. "Their new world is within the confines of the Empire of Kheb's territories. It is defended by more ion cannons than any other world of the Empire. My master proposes the utter destruction of the Tollan people as a test of his power. If he succeeds in this test, he humbly begs an audience with his former brothers and sisters so that he may prove further his worth and value as an ally."

Ra didn't believe a word of Anubis's motivations as this worm said them, but he could not deny how attractive the promise of a dead Tollana sounded. If Anubis succeeded, he could always just kill the beast and take the technology for himself.

Glancing around at the other System Lords that held dominion under him, he could see similar interest in their eyes. Only Lord Yu stood decisively against any such test. But not even Lord Yu could deny that the System Lords were losing their war against the blasphemer.

Ra left Zipacna and returned to his throne, elevated above all others as was his due. Once seated, he tapped his kara'kesh against his chin in thought. Finally he spoke. "Your words mean little, but the promise of them interests us. Tell your new master that we accept his terms. If he destroys Tollana, he may present himself before this council and we will hear his words."

Zipacna bowed deeply from the waist. "On his behalf, I thank you for your eternal wisdom, Great Lord. It shall be as you say. May I have your leave to return to my Lord Anubis?"

"Given," Ra said, sweeping the underling away with a motion of his fingers. Zipacna bowed again and backed away five paces before turning to leave the room. Ra said nothing as the Council exploded in angry, tense discussion upon his departure. Instead, he turned to meet Yu's eyes.

Yes, Ra decided. They would hear Anubis's words, and then they would take Anubis's head and his armies and technology. Then they would destroy the Akai'kheb on their own.

Yu nodded and sank down to his own seat, of a similar mind. The great Betrayer would himself be betrayed. And they would consume him just as Anubis himself consumed Apep seventeen thousand years before.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Hermione lifted her arms over her head and stretched with a delicious, sensual moan. Sweat still glistened from her breasts and seemed to catch the violet moonlight of Knosis' single moon. The former home world of the System Lord Cronus was now the forward operating base of the Empire's continuing war against the System Lords.

She felt satiated in a way she hadn't in more years than she cared to count.

"You are one hell of a lady. Simply amazing."

Hermione turned and looked down at her lover. Colonel Jack O'Neill, a four year veteran and senior flight leader of the Imperial Navy, looked up at her with pure, open admiration. He was not a young man—gray was already starting to pepper his hair. The hair on his chest was already white, as was most of the hair on his back. And yet his arms were strong and his chest was broad and solid, and he was the single most considerate lover she'd ever had.

He was only the second man, in fact, she'd ever made love to. Hermione Potter was fifty-three years old. She married when she was seventeen years old and had been with the same man for thirty-six years, sharing him with another woman that entire time. It felt indescribably good to have a man all to herself, even if there was no love involved.

She did not love Jack O'Neill, though she admitted she cared for him. He was a gentle, considerate man in bed. He _asked_ her what felt good and then did exactly that, making sure to take care of her needs and desires before his own. It was so unlike Harry that her and O'Neill's first time, four months ago, left her breathless and trembling. She'd been riding the storm of Harry's love for so many years she never knew just how wonderful a gentle shower could be.

She looked down at him now, sweating and satiated himself just as she was, and felt a sudden sadness.

"What?"

"I'm not so amazing, Jack."

"You are to me."

Hermione sighed as she sank back down on the mattress they shared. The apartment belonged to the family of one of Cronus' lackeys, one of the more modern buildings that served admirably as executive housing on the planet. It was a simple matter for her to apparate herself and Jack there in private and place wards to ensure their privacy. After all, it's not like she had to worry about Harry or Luna finding them. Harry was fighting at the front like always. She could not remember the last time they saw each other, but knew it had to have been years. Luna was back on Kalmah playing spy-master and keeping the refugees on Nova Terra from rioting again.

Jack swung his legs clear over Hermione's head, leaned over and gently suckled her breasts. He loved her breasts for some reason. The suckling did little for her, but it made him happy she let him do as he pleased. "You are amazing," he said again, kissing his way from her breast to her neck with each word.

"I'm cheating on a husband who could kill us both with his mind," she reminded the erstwhile colonel.

"He's not here, so you're amazing," Jack said as he nuzzled her neck. "You are so beautiful."

Perhaps it was the tone of voice Jack used; perhaps it was just the feeling of sensuality in his voice. But Hermione suddenly remembered another lifetime, on another earth decades before she saw his die. She remembered a powerful, dangerous boy whispering those very words to her before tasting her sex for the first time. More important, she remembered what they said together after making love for the first time.

" _Stay in me. Please don't leave."_

" _Where would I go? You are the only home I know."_

Guilt so powerful, so utterly profound as to steal her breath, struck with the force of lightening itself. She gasped and pulled away from O'Neill's kisses and embrace. He almost fell off the bed for the suddenness of her absence. "What?" he asked, more puzzled than hurt or irritated.

She stood before him, nude and glistening with her sweat and his. The room smelled of their sex, and suddenly the smell clogged her nostrils and made her stomach heave. "I'm sorry, I sense I'm needed back at command," she said, knowing he wouldn't believe her but too upset to care.

She summoned her clothes and dressed quickly, suddenly and inexplicably embarrassed to be seen naked by this man. Worse yet was his own nakedness which he revealed as he stood up and walked toward her. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked. "Is it something I did?"

"No, Jack," she said with a force smile. She finished dressing quickly. "Not at all. I just need to get back. I'll talk to you soon."

Then, because she desperately needed him to believe her, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek before she backed away and apparated to her personal quarters in the ha'tak which she had docked in the middle of the city of Knosis to serve as the capital of the eponymous planet.

She appeared well away from the open windows of the ha'tak, facing the servant's door. She immediately extended her senses and did not relax or sigh until she felt that she was alone. Only then did she let the tears come. She staggered over to her bed—a luxurious, four poster with a mattress that felt like sleeping on clouds—and collapsed onto her stomach weeping uncontrollably. The sheer weight of her betrayal crushed down on her, making it difficult to breathe.

"I was wondering when you would realize," a voice whispered near her ear.

Unable to help it, Hermione screamed and pushed away in fear that anyone could get that close without her sensing them. The fear grew even worse when she saw who it was. "Luna! What are you…I mean…why are you…?"

Luna sat down on the edge of the bed Hermione just abandoned and stared at her with a flat expression. "Hermione, I run Imperial Intelligence. Did you really think you could keep it from me?"

Staring at the only woman in the galaxy who knew her so well, Hermione could only gasp like a fish out of water. There was only one thing she could think to say: "Does Harry know?"

"Colonel O'Neill would already be dead if he did," Luna said. "And possibly you as well."

Hermione's breath hitched; Luna was absolutely serious. "Luna…"

"I had to see if you would realize yourself," Luna said softly, still in a perfectly flat tone. "I didn't wish to judge, to be a hypocrite. After all, you were his wife before me. I can still remember the look on your face when he took me, right there in front of you. But we have so much more riding on us now than we did back then. It's a terrible burden we face, and I understand why you did what you did. But it's over now, isn't it?"

Hermione collapsed to the floor. She didn't weep or protest. In fact, she felt nothing at all but a cold, terribly numbness in her chest. "He'll kill Jack."

"Yes," Luna said. "He will. And you'll let him."

Hermione jerked as if slapped and stared at the other woman she called sister for so long. "What?"

"Hermione, Colonel Jack O'Neill has committed high treason against the Tripartite Throne," Luna said, still in her flat tone. "He seduced the companion of the Akai'kheb and engaged in sexual relations with a Vice Empress. Because all three of us are invested in the Charter as the government itself, adultery with any of us is considered high treason."

"Harry doesn't have to know! We can _obliviate_ …"

"Harry _will_ know, Hermione," Luna said. She met Hermione's frantic stare coldly. "I can see just looking at you. You think he's blind or obsessed; you don't realize how closely attuned he is to both of us. He _felt_ your guilt just now from ten star systems away. He's coming here, now."

"It's not Jack's fault, Luna," Hermione pleaded.

"Legally it is, because it cannot be your fault," Luna answered. "You are Vice Empress, the divine _Anu_ of Erid. For you to commit adultery is a crime beyond comprehension. It would have disastrous consequences through the empire and could possibly lead to civil war. Your followers on Erid would take your side even against Harry. Therefore, it is Colonel O'Neill's fault and he will suffer for it."

Only when she realized that Luna was right did a sob rip its way free from Hermione's chest. "Oh Merlin," she whispered. "Morgana and Maeve, you're right. It's all my fault and he's going to die for it."

Both women sensed when Harry arrived on planet through the Stargate. The air itself thrummed as if a gigantic electrical storm was coming. The sound of his apparating into the room sounded like a thunderclap. He arrived still in his armor, armor splattered with blood from whatever battle he had just left. His hair looked disheveled and more blood traced a line across his jaw. The air around him shimmered with a terrible power.

Hermione tried to breathe but no air would come. She could not gather the energy to fight as he summoned her physically across the room—she couldn't even scream. His hand slapped to her chest, right over her heart.

"What was his name?" Harry said. He did not yell or snarl; his voice was as flat as Luna's, and was the more terrifying for the fact.

"Harry…"

"His…name."

"O'Neill."

He stood staring into her eyes; the green of his own eyes glowed the color of the killing curse. "It would be so easy for me to rip that stone from your chest," he said, his voice still terribly flat and cold.

"You would have to take mine as well, Harry," Luna said. Her own tone matched his perfectly as she walked toward them. "You are as much to blame for this as she is. So am I, for that matter."

"Do not blame this on me!" Harry shouted. He dropped Hermione; she didn't bother to catch herself and instead collapsed to the floor, fighting back a sob. "She knew it was wrong! I _felt_ her guilt all the way from Corinth!"

"Perhaps if you had been here instead of Corinth, it would not have happened," Luna said with sobering calm.

Harry raised his hand as if to strike her, his eyes glinting orange with his rage and the Dark Side of the Force. Luna merely lifted her chin, as if inviting it. It was a far more powerful defense than reaching for a weapon. Harry lowered his hand, but not his voice. "What are you talking about?"

"I told you four years ago, Harry, that we needed time together as a family. You ignored me. You said the war was too important—you had to lead from the front. When was the last time you made love to either of us? We haven't even done birthday trips together. Instead you take your joy in fighting and killing, letting out your inner Sith because it is easier for you to destroy than to love. And those of us who love you and depend on you are left with empty, cold beds."

Harry stared from Luna to Hermione and back again. "Are you saying you've cheated on me as well?"

"I considered it," Luna admitted. "With O'Neill as well. That tells you that Hermione and I share tastes in men if nothing else. I admired him a great deal when we met him the first time around, and I found his courage to be quite attractive."

"Why didn't you?" Harry snapped angrily.

"Because I held out hope that I could bring you back to our bed instead," Luna said. "Even if I took another man to my bed, Harry, it is you, and you alone I love. The bond we share is beyond the physical or else you would not have felt Hermione's guilt. And she felt that guilt, Harry, because it is you, and you alone, that she loves. But you have not loved us back."

"You can't put this all on me, damn it all!"

"No, just your share of it," Luna said with an intensity to match his own. "I make no excuses for Hermione, or even myself. But by Merlin, Harry, I will not let you blame everything on us!" The last came out as a scream which startled Hermione as much as it did Harry. Luna's sudden, unexpected rage seemed to pull the foundation away from his own.

More puzzling was when she rushed forward, grabbed his head and kissed him so fiercely his lips bled when she was done. "You are ours," she hissed at him. "And we are yours. It goes both ways, you arrogant bastard! If you want us to be faithful, then _be_ faithful."

"I haven't cheated on you!" Harry insisted.

"You have, but not with a woman," Luna said. "You've let your lust for the Dark Side pull you away from us. Your lust for blood and death and killing. You are the Emperor of almost three billion people and twelve worlds now, Harry. We are winning the war against the Goa'uld. Your involvement on the front lines is not necessary, you just enjoy it. It's time to come home and be our husband again."

Harry stood in her arms, staring as if struck dumb. Hermione took advantage of the silence to climb back to her feet, shaking as she did so. "I cannot make any excuses for what I did, Harry. I know it is wrong. I love you, and only you." She looked down at herself in disgust. "I'm going to go wash. And when I come back, I…I'll accept whatever punishment you both think is appropriate."

Hermione stripped off her clothes as she walked away, casting wandless _incendios_ as she did. The trail of burning clothes followed her into her luxurious bathroom suite. She ignored everything but the large walk-in shower. The water came out the perfect temperature and she moved underneath it, shivering despite its' warmth. She wasn't sure what particular item set her off—what thought or memory. The grief when it struck sent her to her knees as great, body-shaking sobs stole her breath.

She wasn't even sure what she was crying for. Was it guilt for betraying her husband? Was it loss for the lover she knew was going to die that night? Or was it for the seventeen year old girl she used to be, who threw away her innocence when she spread her legs for a dark god?

Soft, small hands rubbed her back. She felt Luna's own breasts against her back, pert and petite even after all these decades. She felt a cloth and soft soap gently rub against her shoulders. Opening her mind, she could sense Harry was not in the ha'tak. She knew exactly where he was, and what he was doing, and wept more because of it.

Luna said nothing as she gently washed Hermione's hair and body like they used to do together back in London, when they were luxuriating in the exhilarating newness of their wealth, power and sensuality.

Finally, Luna toweled her off and then rubbed in a soothing cream over her entire body, leaving her skin softer than it had been for days. Without being told or asked, Hermione returned the favor, gently toweling off Luna's smaller, more petite body before rubbing in the skin cream. Luna's skin was the color of porcelain, much paler even than Hermione's pale complexion. She could see the veins in Luna's wrists and her breasts, almost purple from the elixir that ran through their blood.

Together, cleaned and softened, the two sister wives left the bathroom together, and together they climbed into the bed.

Harry arrived a minute after they climbed under the sheet. Neither bothered to cover themselves beyond their waists. Harry stepped to the edge of the bed, his green eyes burning as he studied them both.

"He didn't suffer," the Akai'kheb said at last. "He was an excellent pilot and a good soldier. He deserved a clean, quick death."

Hermione refused to cry any more. "Thank you," she said softly.

He left them for the bathroom since he smelled of smoke, plasma and blood. They listened to the water running in silence, each woman lost in her thoughts. Hermione wasn't sure if it was she who grabbed Luna's hand, or vice versa, but when she had the hand in hers she squeezed it hard in desperate need.

Harry returned as naked as they were. And yet, even without his armor, the air shimmered around him. She knew it wasn't a conscious effort on his part. He was so powerful he had to expend conscious effort to stop it. He stepped beside the bed and studied them both. "You are mine," he said. It was a declaration and a vow.

"Then be ours, Harry," Luna said, since Hermione didn't trust herself to speak.

He climbed into bed, and for the rest of the night he did exactly as Luna ordered.

* * *

A/N: I don't have any illusions about this being a popular chapter. Fanfiction especially suffers from the "Happily Ever After" syndrome in it's shipping. We want relations to work perfectly for all time. However, as we get older, people change. I can tell you my wife is _not_ the person I married so many years ago. If you're lucky, you both age into people you can still be friends with. Often, you don't. If I were truly being realistic, Hermione's infidelity would have taken many chapters to write as she grows steadily more unhappy with Harry's neglect. But...this isn't a romance. So what I presented here was the end of a long-brewing problem that even I admitted wrapped up too cleanly. What happened was not only reasonable, but it would have been wildly unrealisticnot to expect something like this. But like many fanfiction writers, I didn't want to dwell on it. Hence the overly clean and quick resolution of what should have been a chapters-long arc.


	45. The Lost Champion

A/N: Chap 45 review responses are in my forums like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-Five: The Lost Champion**

"Mommy? Mommy, you need to wake up."

Andon Montrose moaned. "Mione, it's…Thrones, it's three in the morning!"

"Mommy needs to wake up," the oldest biological daughter of Tel'gat and Andon Montrose insisted. Tel'gat herself sat up in bed, reached over and turned on the light by on her nightstand. Her twelve-year-old daughter stood at the foot of their bed, eyes wide and slightly out of focus.

The expression brought Tel'gat immediately awake with a surge of adrenaline because she had seen it before. "Mione, what did you see?"

"Shadows and blood," Mione said, still lost in her Force-driven visions. She'd started quietly training with the Lady Luna and Prince Daniel when she was six to harness the power than Luna somehow knew she would have even before she was born. "Something bad happened."

Tel'gat's communications entangler suddenly beeped loudly. Tel'gat snatched it off her nightstand. The quantum entanglement devices still were unable to transmit video, but they provided instantaneous audio communications across the known galaxy without using gates and without being subject to any type of scrambling. "This is MinDef," she said, using the code for her position rather than her name.

She needn't have bothered. " _Tel'gat_ ," Prince Daniel said. " _We need you at headquarters. Something's happened at Tollana. Prepare for refugees_."

"A vision or intelligence?"

" _All communications from the planet cut off, but I've had strong visions of something bad happening_."

Tel'gat looked at her daughter, who seemed to be coming out of her fugue state now that both her parents were away. "Mione had a vision as well. Who else is on planet?"

" _Just me and Cathy at the moment_ ," Daniel said. " _I know where the Tripartite are, though, so I'll contact them. On my authority, put the IDF on Condition 5_."

Tel'gat fought to control her breathing. "I'll see to it. Any other orders?"

" _Recall 5_ _th_ _Fleet and put them on standby_ ," the prince added. " _I sense rescue operations may be required, and if not, then it will be good to have a defensive picket for our core worlds_."

"I'll contact Bra'tac immediately."

" _Daniel out_."

The entangler went dark. "What in the Throne's name is going on?" Andon said, eyes-wide. He woke during the conversation.

"Tollana died," Mione said with startling clarity, though he'd asked Tel'gat. "A shadow crushed it, and now it's dead."

Tel'gat rolled out of bed and started walking quickly toward their bathroom. She spoke to her husband ove her shoulder. "Love, I don't know when I'll be back."

"I'll call Zarissa to see if she can watch Mione and Celeste for a few days over the holiday,"

Tel'gat nodded as she walked quickly into their bathroom to shower and get dressed. During the biological attacks on Erid and Kalhu, she didn't get a chance to shower for days, so she took advantage of what time she had to do just that.

When she emerged, Andon was already on the phone with their half-Serrikin adopted daughter who lived just across the capital city of Byrsa at the University of Kalmah. He clicked off the phone and slipped it into his pocket. "She's on her way. Love, I just got a call from headquarters. We have Tollan refugees coming through the gate."

He didn't need to say any more. Tel'gat paused long enough to kiss him, hug Mione and slip in to kiss the still-sleeping Celeste before she rushed out of her apartment to assume her role as the Minister of Defense. It was going to be a long day.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"You have seen that my master is a man of his word," Zipacna said to the assembled System Lords. "By his hand personally he has thrown down the most advanced and fortified world in the galaxy. For over a thousand years the Tollan have stood against us, thwarting every attempt of conquest with contemptuous ease. But in only one day, Lord Anubis struck them down and made all enemies of the Goa'uld tremble in fear!"

Ra reclined in his throne tapping his chin with the golden tip of his kara'kesh as he studied the lackey of his most hated and fearful enemy. Across the table he could see Yu looking indignant and angry. Unfortunately for Ra, many of the others looked interested. Few remained from the first Great Empire that their father Apep created. They didn't remember Anubis' betrayal like Ra and Yu did. Morrigan knew from her queen Danu's memories, but she was not there personally.

Yet…and yet. Ra could not deny the electrifying effect of Tollana's destruction. His generals reported that the Empire of Kalmah was so startled by the loss of their ally that they had actually ceased their offensive on all fronts and pulled two whole fleets back in defensive positions around their core worlds.

It was an unparalleled opportunity to take control of this war and finish the so-called Empire of Kheb off once and for all. However, to do that he needed to wrest Anubis's new weapons away from him. The only way to do that was to confront the Betrayer in person, in the seat of his power.

Ra stood. "Your master has done as he said," the Supreme System Lord said with a gracious nod. "He has struck a mighty blow against our enemies, and made all fear us again. He has earned the right to address this council. Let him come forward and explain how he plans to destroy the Blasphemers."

There were no rings, nor any other sign of how other than a blinding flash of white light. When the light cleared, a hooded figure of shadow darkened the golden floor of Ra's palace. When last Ra saw his counter-part, he still occupied an Unas host with Apep's blood dripping from his sharpened teeth. Now, he could see nothing of the man himself. His deep cowl did not just throw his face into shadow—it seemed living shadows themselves obscured his face completely.

"Greetings, my brothers and sisters," a deep yet hollow voice boomed. It filled every corner of the great hall. "I have returned with glad tidings. The time of the Goa'uld has arrived. All who oppose us will be thrown down. Eternal strength, life and dominion shall be ours for another hundred thousand years.

"These are mighty words," Ra said. Behind Anubis, he saw Yu subtly signaling orders for their Jaffa to begin to converge. They would have to act quickly to destroy the Betrayer before his own forces could be brought to bear.

"As you have said, brother, words alone have no meaning," Anubis said. "But my words are still important. Hear me, my brothers and sisters, for I have learned the truth of the Akai'kheb, and I alone can defeat him."

"I would hear these words, if it pleases my brethren," Ba'al announced loudly. With the chorus of his fellows, Ra had little choice.

"Let us hear your words, Anubis," he said with a dark, hateful smile.

"As you wish, Brother. The Akai'kheb has claimed he is a champion of the Ancients themselves, empowered and chosen by them to unify the galaxy against an Enemy from afar. I know the truth."

"And what is that truth, Anubis?" Ba'al asked, almost as if coached.

"The truth is exactly as he says," Anubis declared. "The Ancients themselves did intercede in his life, repeatedly. He and his companions were born hok'tar, from the same wizards who banished mighty Ra from the Tau'ri home world thousands of years before. They were taken out of their universe and brought here to serve as weapons of the Ancients, and because of this you cannot defeat him."

The other Goa'uld shifted nervously in their seats. Ra himself tried to stifle an angry laugh at Anubis's stupidity and gall. "Then what is the point of you even being here?'

"The answer, my brothers and sisters, lay in how I have gained this knowledge," Anubis said. "Because the Akai'kheb was not the first the Ancients chose to be their champion. Nor is he the only one with powers granted by the Ancients in heaven."

The dark creature's hands rose and suddenly exploded in a torrent of dark blue lightning that seared the air as it struck Ra. The Supreme System Lord flew backward with a scream of agony unlike anything he had ever felt. He slammed into his throne so hard he felt his host's back break.

Fighting back his agony, he struggled to move his arms to summon his Lotar and get him to his sarcophagus, but Anubis was not done. One hand stretched out in a grasping motion and suddenly Ra found himself lifted into the air, choking against an invisible pressure on his throat.

"When you drove me from Goa'uld space all those years ago, I took a human host and let you think me dead. And I spent centuries studying the Ancients." He spoke casually even as he continued to choke Ra in front of the horrified, amazed Goa'uld. "I learned the secrets of their power. In the end of their days, the Gatebuilders learned of a way to ascend from their mortal coils into beings of pure power. The very same Ancients that last looked upon the Stargates they built linger even today as beings of power. They are limited in the mortal realm by their own laws and rules, and so they seek to elevate champions to do their will."

He turned away from Ra but somehow kept the Supreme System Lord in the grip of his power and pulled him after as he strode to the center of the floor to address the other Goa'uld. "I studied them and learned of them, and in time I tricked one of their number into thinking I could be their champion. They elevated me just as they elevated the Akai'kheb. It was only after they realized my true nature that they ejected me back to the mortal world. However, by then the deed was done. I, too, am an Akai'kheb."

Ra's neck snapped so loudly several of the younger System Lords jumped in alarm. Anubis turned his attention to ancient and powerful Yu, and with a gesture snapped his neck as well. He then slowly swept the shadows of his hood around the room. "I have all the power of the Akai'kheb, but more, for I possess many of the secrets of the Ancients themselves. I have a means of making our ha'taks impervious to ion cannon fire. I have the means of increasing the power of our staff cannons a hundred fold. I have the means of not just crushing the Akai'kheb's empire, but the man himself. But I can only do so at the head of a unified force."

Anubis stepped over the still body of Ra and glided silently to the golden throne of Ra. He then sat down with ponderous movements. "Bow to me and accept me as your sovereign and you will know power the likes of which you never imagined. I promise not the empty rewards of this world, but the untold bounty of the next. Worship me, and I shall teach you all how to ascend to true godhood."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Omac sat with near preternatural stillness as he regarded the ruling family of the Empire of Kheb. His formerly tan-colored tunic was stained with his blood and soot. Harry couldn't tell if the calm was just because Omac was truly that composed, or if the man was in shock.

"The ship absorbed over two hundred ion blasts in the first minute of the engagement," the Ambassador to Kheb said with a gentle, calm voice. "The shield was not blocking the particles—the Goa'uld do not have the means of energy production necessary to do that. Instead, the shield must have somehow neutralized or converted the energy of the blasts."

Harry noticed how the man sat perfectly still on the table, his fingers resting flat, right hand over left. The skin of his hands looked smooth and without calluses, but also darkened by soot and recent blisters from something hot.

"The ship's weaponry was on par with the Asgard in terms of destructive power," he continued speaking in his soft, calm tone about the death of his world. "Our planetary shielding failed within minutes."

"Were you able to damage the attacking ship at all?" Hermione asked. Harry could feel her horror through their strained but still very powerful bond. She personally adored Omac and had a great deal of respect and affection for the Tollan people as a whole. This attack hit her in its own way even worse than the horror of Ra's bioweapons on Erid and then Earth.

"We had some success with phased torpedoes, but the enemy strike was too fast and overwhelming for us to launch a counter-attack," Omac said. "We managed to launch only two torpedoes. Their payloads were so small, and the attacking ship so large, that the effect was minimal. As you might imagine, we don't keep a large stock of torpedoes on hand. Not when we have so many ion cannons in place."

He fell silent and regarded not just Harry, Hermione and Luna, but also Daniel, who at thirty-one had become an integral part of the ruling family and an able warrior on the front line when the situation demanded of it.

"Of course your people are welcome to stay as long as you need," Daniel said into the intervening silence. "Anything you need to establish your own community will be yours."

Omac smiled sadly at Daniel, but shook his head. "We will not be able to establish our own community, Daniel. There are not enough of us left to found a new colony."

Daniel didn't argue because, like Harry, he knew it was true. Unspoken at the table was the fact that the population of Tollana had been dropping since they had to switch worlds when their old home world succumbed to a violent increase of tectonic activity. Their birthrate had dropped to such lows that they were counting newborns in double digits for their entire planet.

The entire population of the Tollan people now numbered in the hundreds.

Harry had been mostly silent during their private meeting with Omac, who was the highest ranking survivor of his people. "Do you view this as a parallel to Hebridan?" Harry finally asked.

Omac met his gaze squarely. "While our relationship with you increased the size of it, there has always been a target on our back, Harry Potterarry. We were one of the few races besides the Asgard who were clearly superior in technology to the Goa'uld, and the only one that actually lived in his galaxy. This tragedy was, in a way, inevitable."

"Omac, what would you like to do now?" Luna asked. "For all you've done for us, we will do anything for you we can."

Omac nodded as he considered. "Tollana as a sovereign entity no longer exists," he said. "Therefore our treaty with Kheb is null and void. It is no longer in our interest to try and control the proliferation of ion technology now that the Goa'uld have found a means of nullifying it. If you will accept us, I believe it would be best if I and my fellows remain on Kalmah."

"You'll be welcome," Hermione said without hesitation. "We'll have your people established as citizens immediately. Merlin knows none of you will lack job opportunities. The University alone would take any Tollan citizen as a teacher."

Again, a sad smile. He turned his attention to Harry and with deliberate slowness reached into his tunic to remove a fist-size data crystal. "This is everything. Ion cannons, phase shift technology, more efficient energy production, the quantum entanglement technology. Everything we have."

Hermione looked as if she was going to start hyperventilating. "We're doing to need you help deciphering it," she admitted. "The technology is beyond the understanding of our best researchers."

"We will help where we can, of course," Omac said. "You will need to hurry. I have no doubt the Goa'uld will be striking again soon."

"I fear you're right," Harry said. "How quickly could you help us adapt your phase torpedoes?"

"It will, of course, depend on your facilities and resources," Omac said. "I will help in any way I can."

"You can help by taking a director position," Hermione said without hesitation. "The Bureau of Technology and Development is yours to run. Half of our leading researchers were your students while you taught on Kalmah anyway."

"I will accept."

"Then welcome, Omac," Harry said, standing and offering his hand. "Hermione always wanted you here on in an official capacity. We just wish it were under better circumstances."

"Thank you," Omac said as he too stood.

"Harry, I'll help Omac get situated," Hermione said.

After a last round of welcomes and shared sorrows for the tragedy Omac just survived, Hermione led the former leader out of the office. As soon as he was out of the palace executive briefing room, Harry began to pace.

"What do we know, Luna?" he asked immediately.

"A new player," she said without hesitation. "The attacking mothership was easily five times larger than any normal ha'tak. The power of the ship's staff cannon was three times the energy output of our best turbolasers. This is a major threat, Harry. If this ship can take down Tollana, then every world we have is in danger."

"We have one thing the Tollans never invested in, though," Harry said.

"Ships," Daniel finished. "Tollan phase technology might be able to get us in the mothership. It may come down to ship-board action."

"Wouldn't be our first time," Harry noted with a dry smile.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. "It's Tel'gat," Daniel said, sensing her presence.

Luna motioned a hand and dropped the privacy ward to permit their Defense Director's entry. Tel'gat stepped in with a brisk walk, dressed in business slacks, tunic and a heavy sweater to ward off the winter chill. "Good afternoon," she said. "Akai'kheb, my lady, highness, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have new information. It arrived while you were in closed session with Ambassador Omac."

"Show us," Harry said without hesitation.

Tel'gat walked to the nearest monitor and slipped a small crystal drive into its receptacle slot. "Lady Luna, I'm sorry to say that we lost a major information channel getting this."

Luna frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The Tok'ra lost twelve agents getting this to us. It was their single largest loss of agents in any single operation. But they felt it was worth it. You'll see why."

She stepped back as video and audio began playing in shaky 2-D. "What are we looking at?" Harry asked.

It was Luna who answered. "Enyo and her cell managed to infiltrate Ra's palace," she said. "I believe that's…" She stopped talking, eyes wide, as they watched the newcomer blast Ra with what could only be described as Force lightning. "Merlin's beard," she whispered.

"The newcomer is named Anubis," Tel'gat reported in a hushed voice as they watched the impossible play out. "According to Bra'tac, he was one of the very first System Lords from before Ra's reign, going back almost twenty thousand years. He betrayed the first Goa'uld Emperor and was banished and thought dead."

They listened to Anubis explain himself in shocked silence. "Harry, is that true?" Luna finally asked. "Could he be telling the truth?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "It explains the technology, though." Suddenly he turned and the conference table they were all just sitting at shattered into a million shards, which shot away and embedded themselves like shotgun pellets into the opposing wall.

"Harry…" Luna began.

"I had it!" he shouted. "I had the Ancient technology in my head, back on Kalhu. I tried to hold onto it, I tried, but it slipped away. Almost all of it just slipped away. I know the technology exists, I just can't remember how it works! If I could have just held on to it, I…"

"Then you would have ascended, and we'd all be dead," Luna said. "Don't judge yourself for that, Harry. The question now is can we withstand him?"

Harry cursed. "Our best bet is the phased missiles," he said. "Until we can force a direct confrontation with Anubis, our ship-board shielding will be like paper if he was able to rip through Tollana's planetary shielding."

"Harry, he's like us," Luna pointed out.

"Exactly," Harry said. "When you have a legitimate threat, you don't send lackeys and second stringers first. You send your big guns in first and I'm the biggest gun in the Empire. You and Hermione might be able to take him, but…" He paused. "I'm not willing to risk you or Hermione, or Daniel, not against someone who may have the same powers as myself."

He looked from her to Daniel. "If he beats me, then there's no point in fighting conventionally anyway. He'll have the Ancient's mandate, for good or ill. But I'm not giving up. In the meantime, we've got to be prepared to fight some hard battles. Tel'gat, it's time to consolidate our lines. Have all forces pull back from active fronts. Pull out any supporters we have on those planets. Until you hear otherwise, I want the empire on a defensive footing."

"What will we be doing in the meantime?" Daniel asked.

"Cathy will be assisting Hermione and Omac in upgrading our torpedoes," Harry said. "You, Daniel, will be looking for information. And I am going to be talking to an Ancient to find out what the hell is going on."


	46. The Shadows of Anubis

A/N: Chap 45 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-Six: Shadows of Anubis**

Admiral An'hur, Commander of the Imperial Navy of Kheb, stepped briskly onto the bridge of the IDF _Dakara_ , flag ship of the Empire of Kheb's 3rd Fleet. "Report," he said.

"Sir, enemy ships have decanted from hyperspace and are on a direct course for Tellis."

The world they defended was one liberated from the System Lord Ba'al two years previous. The cruel Goa'uld had alienated both his human slaves and Jaffa warriors with a long string of atrocities to such an extent that Khebbish infiltrators were able convert almost the entire planet's population to side with the Empire. It was a world worth defending.

"Give me a visual," An'hur said.

The bridge of the new destroyers of the Empire were different than the pel'taks of ha'tak ships. They were designed not to instill fear and awe for the Goa'uld commanding it, but rather to increase the efficiency of those operating it. The ceiling was low and ribbed with heavy reinforced beams. Computer systems were embedded in the walls with multiple redundancies. They were not as powerful as the Goa'uld crystal quantum computer systems, but were organized and programmed much more efficiently to use what power they had.

He took a seat not in the center of the narrow, horizontal-shaped bridge, but to the right side where he had his own work station. The visual did not appear on any central screen since the bridge did not have viewports. The observation and flight control deck did, but not the bridge, which was deep within the body of the craft itself.

His primary monitor was fairly large at 50 inches, and the display had crystal clarity and was able to project 3-D. So he saw immediately the enemy fleet and knew that the messages from Kalmah were warranted. There were almost fifty ha'taks swarming around a mothership larger than anything An'hur had ever seen, much less heard of. The ship was unlike the ha'taks around it in that it did not appear to be based on a pyramid structure, but rather was composed of a central dome around which projected several spiked arms bristling with weapons.

An'hur's fleet consisted of a mix of ten ha'tak and ten destroyer-type ships. They were outnumbered to begin with—with the mothership he had no doubt they were not going to hold.

"Order the planet to begin evacuating," he ordered. "Send all fleet al'kesh to the surface to facilitate the evacuation."

The captain of the vessel, an Erid man with years of military experience, blinked. "But Admiral, that will leave us without any to fight."

"Captain Chinni, we are not going to win this fight. Our job is to delay them long enough to allow as many civilians as possible to evacuate, and then to retreat. Those orders come from the Akai'kheb himself."

Orders thus issued, An'hur activated the ship's quantum entangler. " _Bra'tac,_ " the old, terse voice answered.

"General, this is An'hur. Tellis has come under overwhelming attack. Fifty ha'taks and a mothership easily two kilometers in width. I have begun evacuating the planet. We will delay the fleet as long as possible before withdrawing."

" _Acknowledged. Akai'kheb be with you, my friend. We are working on weapons we hope will aid our cause, but they are not ready for deployment. Delay them, but be wary of the mothership. Its shields and weapons are without peer."_

"I shall do you proud, my old master," An'hur said.

He deactivated the entangler and began issuing orders for the line of battle, giving that huge mothership as much space as possible while still fighting the enemy fleet.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Harry stepped through the Stargate alone and let it close behind him with a flash of plasma. Around him a coniferous forest grew in silent splendor. Above, barely visible through the trees, he could barely see a perfect blue sky. The world smelled untouched. If not for the granite rock under his feet, he doubted there would even be a clearing near the stargate at all.

The memories that guided him here were vague and indistinct. Even with his best occlumency, he could only grasp hints. The gate address. The idea that here he might find answers to questions he forgot he had.

"Bloodty Ancients," he muttered.

With a rush of magic, Harry rose up above the trees until he cleared the forest entirely and saw in the distance, at the base of a low range of mountains, a large series of structures rising up from the forest which carpeted everything around him. From a distance, the structure looked vaguely oriental in nature.

With a surge of will and magic, he apparated by line of sight to the front wall of the structure. The large portcullis stood open like the maw of some primordial beast. However, as he studied it he felt a lingering trace of magic about the place.

Ignoring the feeling, he walked in. What he found was a large chamber lined in deep, ochre—colored columns with a single raised podium at the far end. The podium did not house a throne but rather a large ochre-colored pillow. Upon the pillow sat a woman of unremarkable features with shoulder-length brown hair and a motherly smile. She looked odd in red and yellow Buddhist robes.

"Hello, Harry," Oma Desala said in a kind, yet sad voice. She sounded like the loving mother of a disappointing child.

"No games? No tricks? Seems odd to speak to you when I'm not dead."

"You would be able to sense it," she said without apology. "This world is unique. I am allowed to maintain a presence here in this realm. Those who find me here can interact without the judgment of the Others, though few would be able to see this version of me."

It was the first time Harry could recall, in his admittedly sketchy memories of past deaths, that Desala admitted that she herself was limited. "Was I just another of your pet projects, then?"

"No, Harry, you were my penance."

Images flooded into Harry's mind, sifting through his mental shields like water through porous sand. Harry watched a scene play out in his mind, of Anubis laying on a death bed wearing a human host who looked innocent and pure. The fact that Desala was able to send the images to him as she did served as a stark reminder that in his pre-ascended state she was more powerful than he.

"The other Ancients didn't approve of you helping lower races ascend," Harry said when he understood Anubis's true history.

"After Anubis, I was limited to only this world—what your followers would call Kheb. That is, until events in another universe played out and we saw the future that awaited us."

Again images percolated through Harry's mind, only these far more familiar. He saw beings of indescribable power obliterating themselves and whole star systems. The battle between the Ancients and Ori raged for eons, tearing holes throughout the fabric of space and time itself, until creation as a whole finally failed and all things came to a resounding, crashing end.

"There were other paths, of course," Oma said. She rose gracefully form her cushion, moving as if she weighed nothing because her body itself was, like the structure around them, a projection of power alone. "There were paths where Earth, by itself, managed to lead an uprising against the Goa'uld. There was one path I was particularly fond of that actually had warriors from the your old Corusca galaxy cross time and space and land on Earth, setting off a chain of events that also led to the end of the Ori. But in all these paths, there were also terrible prices to pay. Planets were killed and populations ended. Even in this path, the loss of Earth and Hebridan were terrible, terrible prices to pay. But it was our belief that by making you our champion, the price would be far less than without."

"Your belief?" Harry demanded, incredulous. "You mean you don't actually know for sure?"

Oma came to a halt in front of him, her smile still sad and wistful. "We see many things, Harry. But we are not truly omniscient. If we were, Anubis would never have ascended. The Enemy would never have risen from our children. And it would not have been necessary for you to have suffered the way you did."

Harry stood perfectly still as he sensed the divinity that poured off the figure in front of him. "Is he more powerful than I am?"

"More? No. Equal? Yes. I cannot tell you who would win in a fight, Harry. But I do know your fears for those you love are justified. He could rip the Philosophers Stones from your wives' chests with ease, just like you yourself could. He could crush Daniel easily. And like you, he would sense them and do just that."

"Does he retain ancient knowledge?"

This time she shook her head. "No, Harry. For us to give you or he such knowledge would be interfere directly, which we cannot do. Like you, such knowledge must be gained through study and research. What he knows he discovered on this realm, just like you must. He's just have seventeen thousand more years than you to do so."

He nodded as his mind worked rapidly. When he spoke next, his words surprised even him. "Hermione cheated on me."

The words rang in his ears, impossible and too painful to contemplate, and yet too true to deny.

Oma regarded him intently, and once again he was reminded of a mother looking upon a child who had done wrong. "She and Luna are your anchors to this world, Harry Potter. They are the safeties on the weapon we forced you to become. It is a thankless job and it can be terribly lonely.

"I do not claim any omniscience, but I do know that she loves you. She did not mean to hurt you, but rather to find some comfort for her own loneliness. Nor can I tell you it will never happen again. The three of you have chosen a life than can last eons, and there will come a time when you will need time away from each other. Just know that the bonds you forged will last only so long as you let them. As powerful as you are, the greatest potential power you will ever wield is the power of forgiveness. Without that, Harry, you will fail."

She reached up and caressed his cheek. "I wish there was another way," she whispered. "A way to spare you the pain you experienced. They are the salve to your wounded soul. Don't let this one failing drive them away. It will hurt you more than them."

Before Harry could speak or even think about what she meant, brilliant white light and a flood of unspeakable power flashed around him and he found himself standing not in the hall of a strange structure, but on the granite clearing in front of the gate.

He'd been dismissed by beings more powerful than himself. "Huh," he said aloud, unused to the idea.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Daniel frowned as he studied the Jaffa force arrayed around the ruins. Behind him, his hand-picked Ranger captain, a Mal Jaffa named Norta, knelt down with sinuous grace. "They bear the mark of Amaterasi," she noted quietly.

So far, Daniel had led his team to fourteen different worlds with confirmed Ancient ruins on them. And so far, each world had Jaffa also searching the ruins. Most were the Jaffa of Apophis or Heru'ur, but he'd seen a few others, including Ba'al and now Amaterasu, former consort to the System Lord Yu and a powerful Goa'uld herself.

In the four weeks since the fall of Tollana the Empire of Kheb had been forced to retreat from every contested world in the war, losing five separate battles for a total of six planets that before were either openly revolting against their Goa'uld masters, or were of sufficient strategic importance to warrant invasion.

The first battle against Anubis' ships still resounded across the Empire with disbelief and fear. The entire Third Fleet, commanded by Jaffa hero General An'hur, had been obliterated within thirty minutes while trying to fight a delaying action to allow the retreat of ground forces from the planet Tellis. It was the single largest defeat in the history of the young Empire.

The Imperial shipyards had gone into overdrive, producing more ships. More importantly, Research and Development was working to decipher the incredibly advanced technology gifted to them by the Tollan people.

Daniel's mission was more esoteric, but no less important.

"Anubis is like me," Harry told his adopted son after a trip to Kheb he did not reveal to anyone else. The two men walked in the gardens of the palace on Kalmah within a bubble of privacy magic. Daniel had become adept at the Force, in many ways mastering it beyond even what Harry, Luna and Hermione could do, but he still could not perform magic and likely never would.

"So how did he develop Ancient-style weaponry?"

"By going out there and finding it," Harry said softly. "The Ancients left libraries and repositories for us out there, Daniel. Everything the Goa'uld use they stole from Ancient technology. They found what they wanted and stopped. Anubis never stopped looking."

Daniel had never seen his adopted father as tense as he did during that long walk. He knew something was wrong between Harry and his wives—he'd have to be blind, deaf and mute not to notice tension whenever the three of them were in the room. It was enough that Cathy even commented on it.

"Marital problems," she whispered to her brother. Daniel didn't quite know how to take the gleam in Cathy's eyes, as if somehow she took pleasure in knowing that the Tripartite wasn't as perfect as some would like to pretend.

Daniel was old enough, and had been through enough failed romances himself, to know that making relationships work was difficult. Trying to make a polygynous relationship work between three powerful beings over the course of several decades took almost Herculean effort.

Bringing his attention back to the conversation at hand, though, Daniel nodded. "You want me to find it?"

Harry nodded, his eyes distant. "Anubis will be looking too, I'm sure of it. He knows what I am just like I know what he is. He knows I'll be trying to force a one-on-one confrontation, just as I know he'll try to avoid or delay one to further deplete our forces. Why would he fight me in person if he can just obliterate the planet I happen to be on? Even with all my shields and magic, I wouldn't be able to survive a sustained orbital bombardment, or the death of a capital ship I happened to be on."

"So what exactly am I looking for?" Daniel asked.

"Knowledge," Harry said. "I can't remember much from my time as an ascended being, but I do know the Ancients left libraries scattered throughout the galaxy. We need to find one. Let the Force guide you. That's all I can suggest. But I do know you're powerful in the Force, Daniel. In another time, another galaxy, you would be a Jedi Master."

"Not Sith?" Daniel asked wryly.

Harry stared at him, startled by the question, before laughing. "No," he said, relaxing a little for the first time since they spoke. "No, you are many things, Daniel, but you're not Sith. And by the Force, I will never do to you what my masters did to make me one." He looked into the distance. "If I leave any legacy in this galaxy, I want it to be better than myself. And that, Daniel, is you."

It was a vote of confidence and approval Daniel rarely received from his adopted father, but he knew it was as much a comment on Harry's opinion of himself as an endorsement of Daniel. Harry, Daniel knew, possessed the ego of an Emperor, and that was not something that would ever likely change. However, Daniel also knew that with such a huge ego came occasional crushing self-hatred and doubt.

"You don't see many giant statues in Ancient architecture," Norta said, bringing Daniel's attention from the past.

"No, they didn't often build statues on that scale," Daniel agreed. "The Ancients were many things, but they weren't idolaters."

The structure they saw looked as if the Statute of Liberty sat down on a colonnaded throne, and then lost her head and right leg. The stone of the structure had turned green with time but remained substantial and solid, rising up from the floor of a valley between two gentle rises of mountains.

"Let's hear what they're saying," Daniel whispered.

Their tech expert passed up the directional microphone and handed it to Norta, while Daniel slip in the ear piece. She positioned the small dish toward the many Jaffa walking around the colonnade and instantly Goa'uld began to filter back from the many speakers.

Only one, however, was female. Using the Force to guide him, he reached over to Norta's hand and gently had her turn the dish until it was concentrated on the female speaker.

"… _here, exactly as Anubis said. It is locked against us, but our scanners detected the main computer within the structure. We can break it and raid the computer directly with ease. Yes, Lord Heru'ur. Yes, I agree. We shall steal this knowledge for ourselves. Let Anubis grind his forces down against Kheb; we in time will use the secrets of the Ancients to destroy him in his turn._ "

"Prince, is that what the Akai'kheb means when he speaks of the Goa'uld's need to monologue?" Norta whispered.

"Technically, it's a dialogue, since she's saying it to another Goa'uld," Daniel said, though he knew Norta was grinning at him as her jade eyes glanced from his face to the distant Goa'uld. "But yeah, she just told us everything we need to hear. Everybody, as an operational note, please don't blurt any tactical information aloud that our enemies might use against us."

Behind them, members of his strike team chuckled, though quietly. His other earpiece clicked. " _Count a hundred bogies_ , _one snake. No heavies,"_ the team's sniper reported _._

One hundred Jaffa. Daniel's team consisted of twenty Rangers, the Empire's best special-forces warriors. Almost all of them were either Jaffa or Mal Jaffa, with only the best of the best of Erid or Hebridan backgrounds making the grade as well.

"Five to one odds doesn't seem fair," Norta whispered. "Do you think we should give them a chance to bring more men?"

"No, we should just kill them now," Daniel said. He began making hand movements. His rangers immediately fell back from their observation post on a small hillock overlooking the area and began to very quietly belly-crawl under adaptive camouflage to either side of the path leading to and from the gate. The gate itself was visible from the ruin, with an old granite-path that was likely once a paved road from it to the headless statute. The tall grass on either side of the path made an ideal area for rangers dressed in adaptive camouflage which changed patterns and colors based on its surrounding.

When they were in position, Daniel tapped his earpiece four times, paused, and tapped a fifth.

Seconds later he heard the sound of wind through a tunnel as the first sniper fired, followed by three more shots in quick succession. The rifles were not silenced so much as the sound dispersed by a muffler that made it extremely difficult for a typical person to focus in on the exact location the sound originated from.

The four snipers fired again and again. Daniel peeked up through the grass and saw the Goa'uld's personal shield flash as she deflected a sniper round. _Foolish,_ Daniel thought. Goa'uld kept their personal fields active whenever they were in the field. It was a wasted opportunity to take out another Jaffa.

Despite the error, the snipers worked their terrifying magic quickly. The Jaffa did not employ snipers as they considered it dishonorable. Any snipers were Goa'uld themselves, usually asharak assassins. Accordingly, Jaffa in the field made easy pickings. The four snipers already had twelve Jaffa down before the Goa'uld ordered her forces to retreat. Their path was determined by the general orientation of the snipers themselves, all of whom were oriented away from the gate relative to the enemy.

Whenever the Goa'uld had ships in orbit, Daniel's tactic wouldn't work. However, he was betting from the sheer number of Jaffa that Amaterasi had come through the gate. And if that was true, she was soon to have a very bad day.

Over eighty Jaffa came running toward the gate with the Goa'uld having to jog in their midst with her shorter legs. The warriors formed a protective box around her as they ran, five rows of ten men in front, two rows of five men on either side, and the rest behind.

The ambushers did not fire immediately. Instead, they waited until Amaterasi had drawn even with Daniel's out-lying men before opening fire. The Jaffa used staff weapons; snipers used special, heavy-caliber armor piercing rounds. However, the rest of his Rangers used chemical blasters that had slightly less energy than a staff weapon, but which could produce as many as sixty bolts a minute on full auto. One blast was usually enough to put even a man in armor down.

More importantly, the Rangers remained in their prone positions in adaptive camouflage which rendered them almost invisible in the tall grass. The dark red bolts of their blasters gave them away, but their camouflage still sowed enough confusion to bring the column to a halt.

Jaffa soldiers wilted under the concentrated wave of sixteen soldiers firing a blast per second. Despite the numerical superiority the Jaffa had, the front men had no chance to return fire. Those in the very rear began to respond with speed and skill of born and bred warriors, which is why Daniel leaped into their midst with a Force-assisted jump and laid into them with his twin blue sabers.

Daniel was no stranger to violence—Harry was too practical not to put Daniel's Force abilities to use. Now he employed the full suite of his abilities, using the Force not just to guide his blows but to deflect or misdirect the blows of his enemies. He was not capable of Force lightning, but he could easily make Jaffa see their enemies in the faces of their friends. Several times in the heat of the fight Jaffa turned their weapons on each other at Daniel's urging.

It was a short, dirty fight. Jaffa rarely surrendered any more—even those who had moved past toward the gate refused to continue while their god was in danger. Daniel made sure Amaterasi could not escape herself, levitating her over the heads of her men twice to keep her from running for the gate.

Suddenly the battle ended. His rangers began picking themselves up and taking an accounting of themselves while Daniel walked toward the disheveled, wide-eyed Goa'uld. "You dare!" she hissed in outrage. "I shall kill you a thousand times! I shall make your suffering last for eons…let me _go!"_

The last came out as a scream as Daniel easily levitated her. Norta casually walked up to his side. "It's because she's a girl, right?" the Mal Jaffa asked.

Daniel sighed. There was no point in interrogating Goa'uld. They could resist Force suggestion, their minds were more powerful than anything Daniel could direct at her, and she could literally switch off the pain receptors of her host's body at will. He should have killed her at the very beginning.

But damn it, she looked like a nineteen-year-old girl—a very attractive nineteen-year-old girl. It was a weakness Daniel had tried to work through for years.

"Yes," he admitted. With a flick of his other hand, he Force-pulled the Goa'uld's Kara-kesh from her hand. The shield went with it. The Goa'uld's eyes bulged and she screamed, "Wait!" right before Norta shrugged, held up her blaster rifle and let it go on full auto.

The Goa'uld's steaming body slammed into the dirt with a dull thud. "Sometimes I think you are too nice to be the son of the Akai'kheb," Norta said, though she sounded neither disappointed nor judgmental when she said it. Rather, Daniel sensed admiration.

"Well, you also have to remember that I'm the adopted son of his companions as well," he pointed out. "It gave my training a balance."

She nodded. "You honor your parents, my prince, both those you were born to, and those who adopted you. Shall we?"

"Let's," Daniel said. The two led the way to the ruin while the rest of the squad began policing the bodies. This consisted of stripping them of useable material before using the Zat feature of their rifles to vaporize the bodies.

Daniel knew their searching was at an end the moment he stepped foot within the colonnade. The interface looked like a gaudy mirror, but the aperture was exactly the size of a man's face. "Is that it?" Norta asked.

Daniel nodded and started to activate his entangler to call for back-up when a huge bolt of orange light slammed into the ground a few hundred yards away. Daniel and Norta both bent down in alarm. "Hosek, report!" Norta shouted into her earpiece.

" _Hosek is down_ ," one of the team snipers reported. " _Main unit is down, enemy scored direct hit. Five heavies in-bound. Gate is active."_

Daniel tapped his earpiece. "Stay down until we require cover fire," he ordered. He then turned to look at Norta. "We don't have time for the Akai'kheb."

"My prince…Daniel, you can't. The Akai'kheb said…."

"We need this information," Daniel said. "Your job is to get me back to Kalmah alive and make sure the Goa'uld do not get this. Start planting the explosives."

"Daniel…."

"Norta, go," he insisted, meeting her gaze blue eyes to jade. After a long second, she nodded and began pulling out the powerful naquedah bombs. Taking a deep breath, Daniel put his face into the orifice and held on tight as all the knowledge of the ancients poured into his brain.


	47. The Price of Fire

A/N: Chap 46 review responses are in my forums like normal. I've also posed a question to any of you who are still reading that I would value your insight on.

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 **Chapter Forty-Seven: The Price of Fire **

By the time Harry reached his adopted son in the Imperial Medical Center, he found Cathy Jackson already there yelling angrily at a shame-faced Mal Jaffa ranger captain with short black hair and unusual, jade-colored eyes.

"…knew he couldn't handle it! What the hell were you thinking letting him stick his face into that damned library when you knew it would kill him?"

"She did exactly what she was supposed to do," Harry said firmly as he closed the door behind him. "The Captain has been working with your brother for years now. I dare say she knows him as well as you, Cathy. If Daniel felt the only way to obtain the information was to do what he did, then we all need to respect his decision."

As new to the Empire as she was, Cathy sometimes had difficulty with authority. According to Hermione, the young woman had all of Daniel's brilliance directed into hard sciences. She'd been a real asset in trying to decipher and apply the hugely advanced science the Tollan refugees brought with them.

She also tended to yell at her staff, something Hermione deeply disapproved of. Harry wasn't about to let that start with his military people. She turned and glared until she saw who it was. Her cheeks flushed a little and she looked as if she were about to say more, but evidently decided better.

"He hasn't woken up yet," she said instead.

Harry nodded and stepped to the bed. "Captain Norta?"

"Yes, Akai'kheb?"

"I read your report on the way over. My condolences on your team, they have performed above and beyond expectation for many years. I understand you have two wounded snipers here?"

"Yes, Akai'kheb."

Harry felt briefly at Daniel's forehead. He could feel the younger man struggling in the Force to make sense and organize the massive influx of information. It reminded him a great deal of his own experience with Tilgath the Goa'uld's mind. "Your aunts are on their way," he said to Cathy. "Together, we will help him. I promise."

Cathy hugged herself and sat down on the chair opposite Harry. "I know. I'm sorry, it's just…I…" She gave up trying to express her fears and frustrations.

"We'll be back as soon as Luna and Hermione are here," he promised her. He then looked to Norta. "Captain, with me."

"Yes, Akai'kheb."

The moment they were in the hall of the IDF hospital he glanced back over his shoulder. "Did he say anything after he merged with the interface?"

"No, only that he was in pain."

Harry continued walking toward where he knew the only other two survivors of their twenty-man team was, however he heard something in her voice that made him wonder and wish Luna were there. Luna would know at a glance, but the intricacies of the human heart sometimes eluded him.

He led the way into the room the two snipers shared. One man lost part of his leg from a staff blast, while the other took a hit to the shoulder that would have cut him in half if not for his armor. Both men started to rise in their beds, but Harry motioned them back down. "I'm not here as Akai'kheb," he said. "I'm here as a grateful father, and a proud commander. Daniel spoke often about how good his personal infiltration team was. The fact that the three of you got him out is a testament to your skill, and the truth of his words." He made a point of shaking the two men's hands personally.

He then removed three golden discs from his belt, each two inches in diameter. Using touch alone, he transfiguration each gold disc into the shape of a five-pointed star. The three soldiers looked on in rapt silence as Harry secured the shape with a protective rune on back that he traced with his bare finger, and then conjured ribbons. Without a word, he draped a star over each man's head, and the third over Norta's.

"For your courage, sacrifice and skill, I appoint all three of you to the Order of Kheb, with all the Rights and Responsibilities therein," Harry said. "Though we do not make posthumous appointments, rest assured that the families of your teammates will be well cared for and remembered."

Norta looked to be on the edge of tears, as was one of the two men. The other simply looked stunned. "Thank you, Akai'kheb," the Captain said for her surviving team.

The Order of Kheb was not Harry's idea, or even that of his wives. Not even Daniel could claim credit. In fact, the order was the suggestion of the Serrikan Governor of Hebrides, Tsoli Gaspar. It was based on the Golden Cluster of the Hebridan Defense Force, given as the highest honor in their society. Those appointed to the Order of Kheb were eligible for a lifetime annuity rather than the normal ten-year annuity of their military forces as well as an immediately, full-grade promotion and an honorable discharge if they chose to leave the military.

He'd given out less than a dozen since the active war with the System Lords began, and of those all but two remained in active military roles. This latest award made fifteen, and the three of them knew it.

After speaking with them for a few minutes about some of their more memorable missions, Harry said his farewells and left, with the captain on his heels. "Akai'kheb, if I may be so bold, will you truly be able to help the Prince?"

Harry regarded the young woman. Like all Mal Jaffa, she was tall and strong, with a light mocha-colored tone to her skin. She was not, however, overtly muscular. Rather, her muscle tone gave her an athletic, attractive build. With her jade eyes and light brown hair, she was in fact a surprisingly beautiful woman considering her career.

Moreover, he could feel her concern for the prince radiating from her mind. "I believe so, once my wives join me," he said. "Are you close?"

Her cheeks burned brightly. Another odd thing about the Mal Jaffa was how very easily embarrassed they became over personal matters. As conservative as the Eridu were, the Mal Jaffa were even more so. "No, Akai'kheb."

 _Though I wish we were._ Her thought came so clear and loud Harry would have been hard-pressed _not_ to sense it. Harry filed it away as something to discuss with Luna. He'd noticed recently that Daniel was no longer the young man who took his first assignment as the Akai'kheb's heir and apprentice. Instead, he was a man in his early thirties. It was time for other considerations.

They returned to Daniel's room only to find Luna already there. She sat on the edge of Daniel's bed with her hand resting lightly on his forehead. Cathy stood nearby, arms crossed and her face distorted with worry.

"Hello, Harry, Norta," she said as the two entered. Harry wasn't even aware Luna knew who Daniel's officers were, though it was equally possible Luna simply picked the woman's name from her mind. She sighed and dropped her hand.

"Well?" Harry asked.

"What he is experiencing is not too dissimilar to what you experienced after you destroyed Tilgath," Luna said to Harry. "The information he downloaded is so densely packed that it is trying to adjust the neural passages of his mind to handle it. However, Daniel is not an Ancient, and his mind lacks the necessary neurons to handle the data. In fact, I would imagine even most Ancients would have had difficulty absorbing all of the information."

Harry nodded as he came to stand on the opposite side of the bed, near a worried Cathy. "Well, since my solution involved ascending to a higher state of being, I'm assuming we'll try something else for Daniel?"

Luna nodded. "I believe the problem isn't the nature of the data, but the volume. With Hermione, myself, you and…yes, even Cathy, I believe we can ease the burden. I should be able to act as a conductor to shunt certain data bundles into each of our respective minds. You can take information regarding weapons and energy generation. I'll send Cathy information regarding physics and astrophysics, Hermione material sciences and myself medical sciences. Daniel will retain their history and strategic information."

"You make it sound like files in a computer," Cathy said.

"Because it is," Luna said simply without looking at the younger woman. "The data was bundled much like one would bundle computer files. Right now, the files unloaded first are language and history. If we allow the rest of the files to unbundle, he will die. But one bundle per mind should be doable, assuming the minds in question have some Force abilities."

As they spoke, Hermione walked into the room still in her lab coat from their shipyards in the asteroid belt of the Kalmah System. "How is he?" she asked. She very intentionally did not look at Harry.

"His brain is too full," Luna said. "So we're going to download some of the bundles. How would you like to learn everything the Ancients knew about material sciences?"

Hermione blinked. "I think that would be extraordinary. When do we start?"

"Immediately, though we need to take him to the solarium. We'll need to perform a ritual to ensure the transfer is safe. Norta, dear, I'm afraid we're going to have to send you home for now. I promise we'll let you know who he does."

Norta looked at the three rulers before bowing. "Thank you, Empress." She glanced once at Daniel before turning to leave the room.

"I don't like her," Cathy announced.

"That's not surprising," Luna responded cryptically. "Harry, take Daniel please. Cathy, come here."

They apparated directly to the Imperial solarium, startling a cleaning crew and a small band of tourists. Luna allowed limited tours of the palace when they weren't in residence as a way to keep in touch with the public. It drove their secure detail insane.

"Oh, hello there," she said in greeting to the wide-eyed group. "I'm afraid we're going to need to cut your tour short. However, if you check in with the receptionists I'm sure you'll be able to reschedule."

Fortunately, their compliment of security arrived and quickly ushered out the cleaners and the tourists. When they were alone, Harry levitated Daniel into the center of the ritual star that dominated the floor of the solarium. Hermione, meanwhile, cast the activation charms that caused the embedded wards to flare into magical barriers that would protect them against any outside influences.

Once secured, Luna sank down cross-legged to the floor at Daniel's head. Harry took the position opposite at Daniel's feet, while Hermione sat at his right hand and Cathy at his left, moving to the position simply because it was free, not because she had any idea what she was doing.

"So, do I just…what?" the young woman asked.

Luna smiled, though Harry noticed it was a wan expression. "We're going to have to form a gestalt in the Force," she said. "It is the only way to absorb the information. If I try to take it all into myself and parcel it out, it will overwhelm me just as it did Daniel. If we can form a gestalt, all five of our minds together as one, we can accept it all and then divide it accordingly. For Harry, Hermione and I, this will be quite easy. However, for you, Cathy, it will be very difficult."

"Why?"

"Because we're so powerful," Hermione said. "It might be uncomfortable for you to form a link with us."

Harry noticed how Cathy chewed her lower lip and regarded Hermione before looking down at her brother. "But I'll get some of the data, right?"

"Yes," Luna said without hesitation. "The more minds we can divide it amongst, the better. We represent the only adult Force-capable minds, since Mione Antrose is not old enough to attempt anything like this. Additionally, you have a sibling bond with Daniel that should help."

Cathy considered it for a moment before nodding. "Okay, just tell me what to do."

Luna held out her hands, taking Hermione's and then Cathy's. Cathy and Hermione repeated the gesture with their free hands until with Harry they made a complete circle. Harry let Luna's mind guide them. He might have had brute power, but her mental skills in the Force were simply better. He felt her presence follow along their bond, linking into place as if she were a part of him. Hermione followed almost by instinct, though her presence felt darkened somehow by their recent problems.

Cathy lingered on the edge of the link, unsure and obviously awed by the sheer power of their combined consciousness. It was again Luna who reached out and gently guided her in. Thoughts and memories became one; intent and will unified for a single purpose. They turned and with Luna's lead brought Daniel's mind into the gestalt, and instantly everything around Harry disappeared as they found themselves in a white cloud.

From the purity of nothing came a streak of what Harry could only describe as numbers, though numbers so densely packed together they appeared as a column of black streaking across the white nothingness. Another column followed the first, then a second and a third, until suddenly the white purity was streaked through by columns of data assaulting his brain like blaster bolts.

When it felt as if his brain was going to shatter, it suddenly stopped. The white purity cracked and he found himself back in the solarium, gasping. Nearby, Hermione was rubbing her forehead in pain. Luna was flat on her back, her nose bleeding from the effort.

And Cathy was crying, her eyes narrowed in rage as she glared from Hermione to Harry. The anger and pain that radiated off her overwhelmed any feeling of fear she might have felt for her brother. "You killed him!" she hissed, her eyes welling with tears. "Hermione fucked him, and then you _killed_ him! You fucking bastards!"

She climbed to her feet, turned and ran right into the ward wall. Fortunately she didn't stir when she bounced back and crumbled to the floor. "Oh bugger," Hermione whispered.

"I'm sure that was part of the problem," Luna said dryly as she sat up. She wiped the purple-red blood from her nose. "I'm sorry, Harry, Hermione. I should have realized she would pick up on Hermione's guilt in the gestalt. But we really did need a fifth mind to share the load."

"Can we just _obliviate_ her?" Harry asked tiredly.

Luna shook her head. "It doesn't keep with Force-sensitives."

"Why's Cathy so angry?" Daniel asked. He did not open his eyes.

"Daniel!" Hermione said, relieved and anxious. "How do you feel?"

"I feel like my software was rewritten," he muttered. He placed the palms of his hands against his eyes. "Better, though. The pressure is a lot more manageable. What'd you guys do?"

"We shared the library with you," Luna said. "Even with all our powers, it took all five of our minds combined to handle what a single powerful Ancient mind could handle."

Daniel shook his head. "I don't think so. That library would have been more than any single Ancient could handle. They just knew how to download the specific data they wanted. I think…I think it was a very late technology in their development."

Hermione gaped. "You mean you could just take bits and pieces?"

"Yes. Well, now I could. You have to know how to navigate the system. But that's okay, we have the data now, right?"

He sat up with Luna's assistance, then stared at where his sister collapsed. He frowned and then looked from Hermione to Harry. "So, since I can feel something wrong, and I have no doubt I'm going to hear about it from my sister, care to fill me in?"

"It's a personal matter, Daniel," Hermione said, though she looked down at the floor.

"Hermione had an affair," Luna said to both Hermione's and even Harry's shock. "She realized she'd made a mistake, but within the context of Imperial law and also our roles, Harry felt the need to kill her lover."

Daniel pulled his legs under him as he regarded his adopted parents, then Cathy. "Thank you for telling me," he said in a carefully neutral tone. "Was it someone Cathy knew?"

"A colonel from Earth she teamed with when they went through the Stargate," Luna said.

Daniel pursed his lips and raised his chin as he regarded his sister. Harry noticed how he carefully avoided looking at anyone else. "Colonel O'Neill, then. I'll see to her, if that's alright."

"We would appreciate it, Daniel," Hermione said softly. "We never meant to hurt her."

"No, I'm sure you didn't," the prince said distantly. With effort, he climbed to his feet and walked to where his sister lay. Rather than kneel down to lift her, he levitated her smoothly into his arms and waited until Hermione dropped the ward walls. He walked away from them without saying a word.

"He hates us," Hermione whispered, her expression distraught.

"He understands us," Luna said. "In fact, he may understand us sometimes better than we do ourselves. He is quite brilliant. That does not mean he forgives us, but he does understand, that I'm sure of."

Harry rose smoothly to his feet. "I need to meditate," he declared.

"We all do," Luna said. "We need to meditate to deal with the new information we have. And then we need to apply it as fast as we can while we still have an Empire to defend."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Despite being fifty-four years old with four children not even born until she was in her forties, Ishta still looked like a strong, fit woman of thirty. Since taking on the role of the Palace Chief of Staff, the former High Priestess of Moloc the Defiler grew her hair out and let it darken to its natural shade of willow-bark, making her look distinctly more feminine than when they first met her.

Like her husband, General Teal'c, Ishta wore her authority well. She'd served in her current capacity in one form or another almost since she agreed to work with the Thrones. She acknowledged openly that the Tripartite operated with a divine mandate. She just didn't let her obeisance ever turn into worship, which made her valuable to those she served.

She was also the only person Hermione had outside of Luna and Harry that she could speak to openly without fear of her words being made public. To Ishta, confidentiality was simply the mode of her existence.

The two women were ostensibly touring the Weapons Development lab two days after they helped Daniel absorb the knowledge of the Ancients. Hermione spent much of those days in meditation, trying to sort and understand the information in her mind so that she could disseminate it in a useable fashion to their researchers.

However, her efforts were ruined by the memory of Cathy Jackson's hatred, and the guilt that earned it.

With the air around them shimmering with anti-eavesdropping charms, Hermione confessed her sins. Ishta listened with her head bowed and hands behind her back, looking much more like a seasoned ruler than Hermione, who despite her own age looked to everyone else like a nineteen-year-old woman.

When she was done, Istha looked into the distance in thought before saying, "This O'Neill was foolish. He caused his own death the moment he touched you."

Hermione, expecting and even hoping for condemnation and judgment, found herself gaping. "You think it's his fault?"

"You are the Vice Empress. Even if he was new to the Empire, he must have known you were beyond his reach. Moreover, you are married to the Akai'kheb. We all know that, though he tries to be fair, the Akai'kheb is not what anyone would call a kind man. O'Neill took his life in his hands when he allowed himself to covet the Akai'kheb's wife and a head of state in her own right."

"Ishta, he didn't force me into his bed! I made the choice, it was as much my fault as his. More so, I held the power!"

Ishta regarded Hermione closely, being one of the few left in the Empire who would meet her eyes squarely. "If you were anyone else, I would agree. The fact you feel guilt at all is reassuring. But you left behind the right to be guilty when you assumed the mantle of Empress. By law, your guilt would be the Empire's guilt. You are not appointed or elected to represent the Empire, by the wording of the charter you, Luna and the Akai'kheb _are_ the Empire. You cannot be wrong, because then the Empire itself is wrong. Therefore, it was O'Neill's fault he went to your bed, for doing so was treason against the Empire. And if you find the guilt of his death unpleasant, then learn from it and do not take another lover."

"What if it were you?"

"If I were ever to show such weakness, then I have no doubt Teal'c would kill the man, and rightfully so," Ishta said, though she sounded as if the idea were beyond consideration. "Likewise, if he were ever to take another lover, I would kill her. However, understand that Teal'c and I are Jaffa. Our conditioning makes such actions…unlikely."

In other words, Hermione thought, Istha and Teal'c were better than she was. _So much for absolution._

They paused near the shield testing platform. Below, within the cavernous space of the hollowed out asteroid that housed the facility, the developers were on the verge of doing a live-fire exercise. The two women watched in silence as various levels of power were applied to shields using some of the enhanced emitters Hermione and Harry together were able to draw up using their newly gained knowledge.

"Impressive," Ishta said with one raised brow as the shield absorbed more and more power.

"The power draw is phenomenal," Hermione said as she looked down with a frown at her data pad. Live telemetry provided far more information than just her eyes could see. "It's going to be usable for only a few minutes at a time before our ships have to disengage. Perhaps a computerized adaptive response system would save some time. But still it's a liability until we can figure out a better power generation solution."

"It is still a start," Ishta said. "We're losing ships weekly, faster than our facilities can produce them. We need something to stem the tide."

"Yes," Hermione said. Her mind vacillated between Cathy's expression of hatred, her own guilt, and the telemetry from the advanced shield test. "Yes, it's time to start taking the fight to Anubis."

She began typing into her pad while staring at the shield. When done, she showed the message to Ishta, who nodded. "I'll see to the requisitions and have Secretary Tel'gat draw up a schedule for the refits of our current ships."

Hermione could only nod.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Camulus was smart enough to know that the winds of fate had shifted away from mighty Apophis and Heru'ur. Anubis, with his superior technology and crushing victories against the Empire of Kheb, had proven himself the more powerful leader. And so Camulus did what all smart Goa'uld did—he switched to the winning side.

For his initiative, Anubis gave him some of Ra's former worlds, great riches, and a fleet of ha'taks armed with the enhanced shields and staff cannons that made Anubis's forces so lethal to those of the blasphemers of Kheb.

The past nine months since Ra's death had seen almost a complete reversal of Kheb's advances in Goa'uld space. Every world they'd taken Anubis and his supporters gained back, and now Anubis was drawing up plans with his lieutenants to take the fight directly into the Empire itself. The world of Erid was already weakened by Ra's biological weapon, Anubis argued, and so would make a soft target. Even after Ra's weapon killed millions, tens of millions more remained to be taken as slaves.

First, however, they needed to take care of the haggard remnant of the Empire's forces in Shentaal, one of the fallen Cronus's worlds.

"Approaching the enemy now, my lord," Camulus Prime said with a bow.

The Goa'uld nodded imperiously. "Then it is time to show the blasphemers the cost of their impudence. Alert all ships to attack immediately."

"At once, my lord."

Camulus leaned back in his throne and prepared to watch the slaughter. Only four the Empire's ships remained in orbit—proof of Anubis's words that the Empire was simply running out of resources with which to fight them. The ships themselves were all ha'taks, and at least two appeared damaged at that. This, he knew, would be a short, easy victory.

His squadron of sixteen ha'taks emerged from hyperspace and immediately opened fire, pelting the four enemy ha'taks in a shower of staff cannon fire more powerful than anything seen before Anubis's return to the galaxy.

The Khebbish ha'taks were no match for the enhanced weaponry. Their shields collapsed like tissue, and in seconds all four ships exploded in great billows of plasma and burning atmosphere. "So easy," Camulus said.

"My lord, new enemy ships are emerging from hyperspace directly behind us!"

"It is of no moment," Camulus said after he ruthlessly crushed a small spark of fear. He had allowed his squadron to be trapped against the planet's atmosphere. "Shields and weapons are more…"

The whole ship jerked so violently Camulus fell to the floor with a grunt. "What was that?"

His prime picked himself up from the floor, dazed and bleeding from his forehead. "My lord, their weapons are…they're weapons are much stronger than before. The missile they shot passed right through our shields!"

"Return fire!"

Of course, Camulus knew the order was redundant—he could hear from the ship's thrumming that they _were_ returning fire. Nor was the fire ineffective. He saw on their viewer one of the newly arrived, dagger-shaped enemy vessels blossoming in death. However, he saw two of his own ships doing the same. It seemed the blasphemers had somehow found a way to upgrade their own shielding and weapons to level the playing field.

It was Camulus' misfortune to discover first hand that the Empire of Kheb had also managed to replicate Tollan phased torpedoes. The shimmering red orbs shot out from the enemy ship slow enough to be seen by the naked eye, but too fast for them to maneuver out of the way. That red, shimmering flare was the last thing the Goa'uld saw before he, and his ha'tak, died.


	48. Triangulation

A/N: Chap 47 review responses are in my forums as normal:

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 **Chapter Forty-Eight: Triangulation**

There was something simply gratifying in the sound of a Tok'ra screaming.

Ba'al rested upon his throne and watched as the captured spy writhed on the gravity plate against the wall while the pain inducers worked. Beside him, his latest enemy-turned-ally lounged indolently with a grim smile. "Do they all scream like that?" she asked.

"The three I've found have," Ba'al told her.

Over many, many centuries Ba'al had enjoyed his rivalry with Qetesh perhaps more than any other. He found her to be utterly ruthless, devious and a survivor like him. But in the four years since Anubis killed Ra, he discovered in this daughter of Ra a surprisingly capable and even enjoyable ally. Her host, after all, was simply delicious to the taste and his eye. Even now, their skin glistened from their most recent coupling, committed to the screams of this latest captured Tok'ra spy.

She stood then and walked with a seductive sway to her host's hips toward the spy, pausing only at the edge of the gravity well that inverted everything horizontally to their perspective. She reached into her long, luscious hair and from it removed an artfully concealed silver dagger. She took her time positioning the dagger until satisfied, and let it go.

The dagger fell side-ways and cut into the female host's bare nether region, penetrating like a violent phallus. The host's screams for a brief moment overcame those of her symbiote.

"Artfully done, my dear," Ba'al said. "This one has provided us much to think on."

Qetesh moved back to her own throne, which sat even with Ba'al's. "She told us nothing that many of us haven't already guessed. Only Anubis in his arrogance refuses to see. Of course the infidels will play us against each other. If we combined all our fleets into a single force, the war would have been over when my Honored Father lived still."

Ba'al nodded, but his eyes lingered on the naked, bruised and cut form of the captured spy. Her host had been beautiful herself, before they captured her. Worse yet, she too had been one of his many lovers, having played the part of a Goa'uld underling to perfection. She'd been so close, it would have been simplicity itself for her to destroy him. Instead, she had for the past year whispered advice that seemed intelligent until viewed from the larger perspective of the war as a whole. Of course he would suspect his many brothers and sisters of duplicity, always holding back some of his forces against the possibility that another System Lord would take advantage of him. Look how much Camulus suffered for his support of Ra against Hebridan.

Distrust and suspicion was simply the way of the Goa'uld. And because that was how they were, a small, insignificant group of humans was able to fight a war against them for years on end, winning victories that seemed utterly incomprehensible.

The Khebbish were winning not because they were the superior force, but because the Goa'uld fought both the Khebbish, and themselves. If he himself whispered such to Anubis, he had no doubt the Supreme System Lord would order all System Lords to gather together into an invincible fleet.

Ba'al's ancient, powerful mind began playing through various scenarios, weighing various pros and cons while tallying those who would support him. Qetesh, herself over ten thousand years old, sensed his concentration. "What are you thinking?"

Ba'al's mind had already run through various scenarios where he took power, but always he was betrayed and destroyed in every scenario he could envision. No, his best chance was to act as the voice behind the throne. But who to support? Qetesh, though a daughter of Ra, never had the resources to even ascend to the ranks of a System Lord.

The obvious answer floated up from the other names. More than even Apophis, whose cowardice so many years ago paved the way for the Akai'kheb's ascension, there was one Goa'uld who had a better claim than any for the title of Supreme System Lord: Heru'ur, son of Ra. Older than Qetesh, with huge armies and a mighty fleet, combined with an utter lack of insight, Heru'ur made the perfect figure to sit on the Throne of Ra.

"Share," Qetesh said more forcefully.

Ba'al turned and smiled at her. "A thought, my dear Qetesh. I've a thought on how to end this war once and for all, while at the same time ridding ourselves of your father's killer."

"Tell me." She'd leaned forward until the breasts of her host body pressed against his arm.

"After our guest is dead," Ba'al promised. "For it is a task I cannot hope to complete without you."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Luna watched Norta watch Daniel watch their rising star researcher, Dr. Samantha Carter. If it weren't so tragic, it might have been funny.

The Mal Jaffa ranger loved Daniel, of that Luna had no doubt. She also knew that Daniel held her in very high regard as well, enough that they had been romantic at least briefly following his mission to obtain the Ancient repository. It was an intense, physical attraction and a mutual respect brought about by their military service together.

Despite her military background, Samantha Carter was as opposite Norta as it was possible to be. The woman was a former captain in the United States Air Force and one of the primary programmers who worked with Cathy Jackson to develop their own dialing program for America's short-lived, ultimately suicidal Stargate program. In fact, it was through Cathy that Dr. Carter and Daniel even met.

Whereas Norta had the dark mocha skin and eyes so typical of the Mal Jaffa, Carter's blonde hair and pale skin drew more comparisons to Luna herself than to anyone. She was tall, deliciously full-figured, blue-eyed and with an intellect that might very well have overshadowed even Hermione's. She understood the physics of ancient technology in a way few outside the Tollan remnant could, and Luna knew that Daniel was deeply attracted to that intellect. For Daniel, it was always the intelligent girls he gravitated toward.

Norta was a very intelligent and capable young woman, but she was not an astrophysicist. And yet, of the two, Luna was certain Norta would have borne Daniel the more powerful Force-sensitive children.

With effort, Luna pulled her attention away from the love triangle to her right and focused on the very important briefing their Secretary of Defense was providing.

"…high assurance. Anubis has ordered every Goa'uld in System Lord Space to assemble, and they are complying. All the feuds and alliances have been put on hold. They're mustering in the Vorash System. It has only one habitable planet, but it was abandoned ages ago when its naquedah supply ran out. Otherwise the system is empty."

Tel'gat spoke with a calm, professional tone completely at odds with the fear she obviously felt. Harry, like Luna herself, chose to respond only to the professionalism. "What types of numbers are we looking at?"

"Based on what we already know?" Tel'gat said. "Ten thousand ha'taks, more or less. Several hundred thousand death gliders, al'kesh and tel'taks. All our fleets combine give us maybe two thousand capital ships. Only twenty of those are Ancient Enhanced designs. We can muster perhaps five thousand fighters. Our orbital defense platforms can reasonably be counted as two destroyers each, but even then we cannot hold any given world in the Empire against a large-scale assault. They could knock us down, one world at a time, until we having nowhere left to fall back to. And they could do it in a matter of weeks."

The sole non-human at the table, the Serrikan general and former Hebrides governor Tsoli Gaspar, tapped his clawed fingers against the smooth surface of the table near his inset monitor. "What amazes me is that they haven't thought to do this before. While the Goa'uld don't always act in ways we find logical, it seems hard to believe that they would allow the war to continue as long as it has if they were capable of mustering this type of force."

"It never occurred to them because the entirety of the Tok'ra network has spent the past eight years convincing every System Lord that Anubis was going to turn on them if they gave him too much power," the sole Tok'Ra at the table, Lady Enyo, said firmly. "Unfortunately, the network was fatally compromised ten days ago. We've been smuggling as many agents out as we could, but I estimate we've lost more than half our numbers."

Gaspar opened to his mouth, thought for a moment instead, and finally nodded. "Smart, very smart. It's a shame we can't advertise just how much your people did for us, Lady Enyo, or how high the cost was."

The Tok'ra gave the Serrikan a regal nod.

"We're aware of it," Harry said softly. He looked around the table of their most senior advisors and allies with quiet intensity, causing Luna to do the same.

Finally, Harry, like Luna, brought his gaze to rest on their adopted son. At thirty-five, Daniel looked almost old enough to be Harry's father, though he carried it very well. All hint of the toddler who ran around the floor of the Byrsa caves jabbering away happily to the other Byrsa was long gone, replaced by an intelligent, confident man in his prime. He never again exuded the warmth he once had for them following the tragedy of Colonel Jack O'Neill, but he always respected the wishes of his adopted parents, and performed the duties assigned him as a Prince of the Realm well.

"Daniel?" Harry asked, somehow knowing the Prince had something to say.

Instead of speaking, Daniel turned to his companion, the beautiful and brilliant reason why Norta was not yet a princess of the realm. Dr. Carter cleared her throat, obviously nervous at attending a meeting with the leaders of the Empire.

"Well, sirs," she began, falling back into her old military parlance. "I ran some computer simulations and I think I may have come up with an idea. We know that Goa'uld always muster in star systems. The Goa'uld instinctively despise deep space. It's why most of their warfare has been through the gate, with only occasional attacks from space when necessary. So I began to look at different ways of attacking a large force in any given system. The computer models suggest…"

"What do you want to do, Doctor Carter?" Harry cut her off, though not as harshly as he might have.

She stammered a second before quickly recovering. The quick recovery won her points with Harry, Luna had no doubt. "A stargate, sir. An open stargate, launched into the Vorash star, would cause the star to go supernova at hyper-velocities."

Around the table, senior leaders of the empire looked at each other in astonishment. Even Harry sat up, his eyes flashing and the air around him shimmering as sometimes happened when he concentrated. "How sure are we of that?"

"The physics add up, without question," Daniel said. "The wormhole would destabilize the core of the star and trigger a catastrophic collapse, resulting in a supernova. The dimensional warping aspects of the gate would cause the initial explosion to reach superluminal speeds. Uncle, Doctor Carter's idea could very well wipe out the entire Goa'uld fleet. But if we do this, we have to do it now, while Anubis is still mustering his forces."

Luna looked across Harry to where Hermione was feverishly running her own computer model. She could see the moment her sister wife confirmed it. "It could really work, Harry," Hermione said softly. "Not only would it work, but if this model is correct, the explosion would be almost instantaneous. The enemy fleet wouldn't even see it coming, especially not if we launched the gate from the far side of the star."

"Such an act is cowardice!" Bra'tac declared in his typical booming voice. At nearly one and a quarter centuries of age, Bra'tac was the oldest in the room. "How many millions of our Jaffa brethren would die, having not even seen the face of their killers?"

"With all due respect, Master Bra'tac, how many billions of our people would die at Anubis' hands if we don't?" Tel'gat countered, meeting the honorable general's angry gaze squarely. "Even more, how many Jaffa will we save by ending this war in one fell swoop and eliminating ninety percent of all Goa'uld in the galaxy?"

"Bra'tac, the Goa'uld are not our true enemy," Luna said, choosing to speak before a full argument erupted. "We are running out of time, I can feel it. If we are still engaged in a shooting war with the Goa'uld when the Enemy arrives, we won't have any hope of standing against them. We need to end this war. More importantly, we need to survive it."

"I agree that it is not the most honorable approach," Teal'c said from his position between Bra'tac and his wife, Ishta. "However, I believe it is a necessary one. I support this plan."

"As do I," Gaspar said clearly.

Ishta merely nodded. "I agree," Tel'gat, the Secretary of Defense, said simply.

"Who would we send?" Harry asked.

"I and Doctor Carter will go on a cloaked al'kesh," Daniel explained. "With only a small team."

"And I will need to go as well," Luna said. Harry sat up in alarm and Daniel started to protest, but Luna held up her hand. "I have to. Anubis can sense things in the Force. I more than any of you can shield our Force presences. Otherwise, he will know we're there."

"I could do it too," Harry noted.

Luna met his gaze squarely. "You could. But I think we both know that this will not kill Anubis. From what we've seen, his ship alone has sufficient energy to shield against it. We can't risk you, not while Anubis lives. Your job will be to hunt him down and destroy him with our assembled fleets. We must finish this, Harry."

Harry met her gaze for one long moment before nodding decisively. "Then let's finish it. Daniel, get Doctor Carter whatever she needs. Tel'gat, Teal'c, send out the fleet notices. We're going to end this war one way or the other. Hermione, will you handle the home front?"

She nodded, obviously displeased at being left out. "I'm to assume then no public announcements until after the fact?"

"One way or the other," Harry said with a nod. "Too soon, we tip our hand to the spies monitoring our communications. And if we lose, then there is little to hope for anyway."

Meanwhile, Luna found her gaze drifting from Harry to Hermione, and then to Daniel, as a vague notion turned into an idea.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Luna was not above manipulating events. In fact, as the de facto spymaster of the Empire, manipulation was in her job description. This extended to relationships. For example, Luna was quite proud of how Andon and Tel'gat Montrose turned out. Their two biological daughters, Mione and Celeste, were both Force sensitives. In fact, Mione at sixteen had already advanced her training with Luna and Daniel to include a lightsaber.

However, for all her successes she had failures as well. The greatest of those failures was her adopted children. Daniel and his siblings were always the closest thing to children Luna and Hermione could have. It broke he heart when Claire, Melburn and their younger children, Michael and Karen, were killed. Since then, Luna had made it her mission in life to make Daniel and Cathy happy.

She'd failed miserably with Cathy. The youngest surviving Jackson refused all attempts to communicate with them outside of formal channels. She worked in the Kheb Defensive Initiative as an advanced weapons designer under the last name Littlefield and tried to deny any relationship to the Imperial family. At Daniel's request, they honored her desires despite how much it hurt.

Daniel himself somehow resisted Luna's manipulations as well. Perhaps it was because of his own deep connection to the Force that he knew what she was doing and simply chose not to comply. But it frustrated her since she knew he did love Norta.

Therefore, given who she was, no one should have been surprised when Luna made sure Norta was the head of Daniel's security team on board the al'kesh they took deep into Goa'uld territory.

Having them all in close proximity gave Luna all the information she needed to understand finally what was happening. Doctor Carter was not blind to Daniel's affections, and in fact appeared to show equal interest. After all, Daniel was a powerful, handsome man not just politically, but physically and intellectually as well. Moreover, Carter was also obviously aware that Norta had a previous claim on the man.

The two women moved around each other like a pair of cats in heat. Daniel chose to deal with the issue by retreating to his personal quarters to 'meditate.' The whole thing had the other members of Daniel's ranger detail walking on pins and needles, since they would have to be blind not to know how their captain felt about their prince.

It was, Luna decided, as good a time as any since they had two hours before they reached Vorash. With a forced smile she knew others thought looked serene, she left her own quarters into the larger hold where they had the stargate they were going to use secured. Doctor Carter was kneeling down working on some part of it, doing her best to ignore the hovering Norta.

Luna walked straight toward them. Norta stiffened to attention as her training dictated. Carter, who was far more aware of Norta than she let on, noticed the difference and slowly stood herself. Being an American, she was not indoctrinated in the manners of the Empire and so often found herself unsure of how to act around divinely mandated royalty.

"Captain, Doctor, I would like to have a few words with you. Please come with me."

"Um…ma'am, I have to…"

Norta hissed angrily that anyone would dare even consider disobeying an order from the Vice Empress. Luna merely stared at Carter until the young woman blushed deeply and put down her tools. "Of course," she stammered.

She led them to her quarters and then stood aside and motioned them to precede her. Norta stepped through with a carefully blank face, but Carter had difficulty hiding her nervousness. Luna followed, but the moment the door was closed she lifted her kara'kesh she always wore and warded the room so powerfully not even Daniel could get in.

She turned to see two young, attractive, nervous women staring at her intently in an otherwise barren room. Luna lifted her hand and conjured three plush chairs, causing Carter to actually yelp in surprise. Norta managed to keep at least the appearance of cool, though Luna could feel her fear. Conjuration was not something Daniel could do, and it was not a power the Tripartite used openly very often.

"Please sit," she said as she took her own conjured seat. Norta obeyed, but Carter remained standing, staring down at the seat.

"How did you do that?"

"Magic, Doctor Carter," Luna said simply. "Sit down, please."

Carter started to sit, but a heavy deep thud made her jump back up. "What was that?"

"Daniel is rather emotional sometimes," Luna said, instilling calming power in her voice. "I have telepathically assured him that I will not harm either of you, but this conversation _will_ happen. There is nothing he can do to stop it."

"But his power…" Norta began.

"Is a fraction of mine," Luna told the young Ranger. "Just as mine is a fraction of the Akai'kheb's. I wish only to speak with you both about Daniel."

Carter summoned up some of the courage that she showed earlier with Harry. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I don't see how that's any of your…"

"Do not finish, woman!" Norta hissed angrily. "Daniel is a Prince of the Realm, and the Vice Empress is his mother!"

Carter, brave or not, remained intelligent enough to realize she was approaching the conversation from the wrong angle.

"Child, do not let my face fool you," Luna said. "I am fifty five years old, and if things continue as they are I could live to be many thousands of years old. I was in my twenties when I met Daniel's parents. I remember he had a Barbie doll that his parents dressed as an ancient Egyptian pharaoh queen. I have watched him grow up, and when he lost his family at age sixteen, we, the Tripartite Throne, formally adopted him. He is our son, and because he is a prince of the realm, his love life _is_ a matter of our concern. Frankly he should have married Norta here four years ago. Captain, do you know why he didn't?"

Norta lowered her head. "Because you…you wished it so, Blessed One."

Carter looked in surprise from Norta to Luna. "I don't understand."

"It is simple, Doctor Carter. Any children Norta gave to Daniel would share Daniel's power. Your children would most likely not. They would be truly intelligent and otherwise commendable children, but they would not have the Force as Daniel does. When Daniel sensed why I approved of Norta, he…threw a tantrum, for lack of a better term."

"How could you possibly know that?"

Luna smiled wanly. "You've seen so much, and still you doubt. Captain, I can see the future. Omac of the Tollan Remnant called it Quantum Mechanical Projection, but simply put I am, and always have been, a seer. I can see potential futures all around me. For instance, I foresee a time when Hermione, Harry and myself do not rule the Empire. If so, it will fall to Daniel and his descendants. It would be better for the Empire if those descendants had the Force. Daniel had this same vision, but rejected it soundly because, to put it simply, he does not want the responsibility that comes with direct rule."

"You make him sound like a coward," Carter said hotly.

"Only because you don't understand," Luna said softly. "He is not afraid of rule. He is afraid of what he will have to do _if_ he rules. The Tripartite makes decisions every day that affect billions of lives. We have intentionally ordered people to their deaths. We have killed directly in cold blood, and violated the minds of our enemies. Daniel has made it a point of not using his power in a similar fashion, but he is capable of it. He fears that if he ever sat the throne, he would have to compromise his own morality to rule. And he would. Unfortunately, morality and good rule rarely go hand in hand."

"No matter what he had to do, I know he would always remain a good man," Norta said with the utter conviction of a woman in love.

Luna smiled softly. "Harry was a good man, once. As a young man, he couldn't even imagine hurting someone intentionally. Now, he could burn worlds to ash if he felt it necessary. Do you know why he hasn't? Do you know why he fights with his soldiers instead of just casting Fiendfyre and burning all the opposing worlds to ash?"

Carter looked horrified that he could even do such a thing. Norta, however, nodded. "Because of you and the Blessed Hermione. As it is written. He is the Sword of Heaven, and you are the hands of mercy which stays his blade against all but those who don't deserve it."

"Yes. More precisely, Hermione and I act as a moral compass to try to restrain his more violent tendencies. Sometimes we are successful, sometimes less so. Sometimes we too get lost, but always we strive to find a way to balance the needs of empire against the cost of morality. But we are absolutely necessary to prevent the Akai'kheb from being a monster. Daniel grew up with us. He has seen what my husband is capable of doing, and he fears deeply ever becoming something like that."

"That won't happen," Carter finally said. "I know Daniel. He would never do that."

"But he will," Luna said. "I've foreseen it. He won't want to, and it will tear at his soul, but there will come a time when he will have to make decisions that on the surface seem evil, but which prevent far greater evils to come. Without anchors, that darkness will consume him. It is the nature of the power he wields, you see. The Force is life itself, a metaphysical energy which binds all things. It does not just grant Daniel power, it augments his character. His light shines brighter. But if a darkness enters him, the Force will augment that darkness as well, until it comes to dominate his character. That's what happened to my husband, until Hermione and I pulled him back into balance. After all, I can assure you the world of our youth did not permit and condone plural marriages. However, it was necessary, and remains necessary."

Carter didn't get it. For all her brilliance, the woman appeared to be emotionally myopic, perhaps because of her conservative American upbringing. Norta, however, stared with a gaping jaw. "Such would be…permitted?"

Carter looked from Norta to Luna, and the light began to dawn. "You've got to be kidding."

Luna shrugged. "It would not be easy for you, Doctor Carter. Norta, I think, would do well. After all, one of our core worlds still commonly practices group marriage. I know at least three of your fellow researchers are Eridu."

"But…but…that's barbaric! It's subservient to…"

"How many men am I subservient to, Samantha Carter?" Luna said in a cool tone. "Do you think I am a slave to my husband? Is that why he appointed both his wives as Vice Empresses? Why the Charter of Empire lists all three of us as the sovereign rulers? It is only barbaric if you allow it to be. And we all know Daniel would never attempt to turn you to his will. That is one aspect of his character even I do not believe will change."

"But why…?"

Luna stood, though Carter and Norta were both tall enough that sitting neither woman was that much shorter. "Because, despite everything else, Samantha, I love Daniel as if he were my own son. I want him, as much as possible with the burden we've placed on him, to be happy. I do not believe he can overcome his self-doubt with you by his side. And, though Norta would be a very good wife, I do not believe he could find full satisfaction with her alone. Together, though, I believe you could make him happy and complete."

"And I guess we don't matter at all," Carter said bitterly. "It's all about the 'prince'."

Norta stood and raised a hand as if to strike the researcher, driven to such anger that not even Luna's presence could restrain her.

However, while Luna's presence did not stop her, Luna's power could. With a wave of Luna's hand Norta floated into the air until she came to rest against the ceiling. Gasping past tears, the Ranger cried, "Forgive me, Blessed One. Please forgive me. I didn't…"

Luna ignored her and stared down at the gaping, alarmed scientist. Luna was very aware that the air around her shimmered with the hint of flame. Her own anger made her magic flare. Spinning abruptly, Luna ripped her wards down. Daniel stumbled in seconds later, flushed and obviously terrified. Luna recast her wards the moment he entered.

"Norta!" he cried when he saw her against the ceiling. "Auntie, please, whatever she's done, don't hurt her!"

"I'll tell you what she did, Daniel," Luna snapped, no longer bothering to hide her hand. "She had the gall to fall in love with you. She had the temerity to have absolute faith in you as a man and leader, and would gladly have given everything she had for you. Worse yet, I liked her, so obviously she's committed a terrible crime. Why else would you reject her?"

"Auntie, you don't understand…"

Luna released her hold. Norta fell the ten feet but landed deftly on her feet.

"I don't understand?" Luna said with strained calm. "Do you really believe that? For all the terrible things you learned when we merged to save you, do you really think we didn't learn about you?"

She grabbed his hand and sat him down in her conjured chair. "It is time for you to marry, Daniel. You are a prince of the realm, and whether you like it or not it is your duty. By the time this mission is done, I expect you to have made a decision. You have three choices: Norta, who loves you with all her heart and will support you in anything you do for the rest of your life; Carter, an intellectual equal who will question and challenge you for the rest of your life; or both of them, who will give you the balance you will need and the happiness you so richly deserve. Before the end of this mission, make your decision. I will ensure that Harry and Hermione accept it."

With that, Luna tore down her wards one more time and stalked out of her quarters.

"We're going to be blowing up a star in less than an hour!" Daniel called after her.

"Then I suggest you decide quickly," Luna called back.


	49. A Fire Upon The Deep

A/N: Chap 48 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Forty-Nine: A Fire Upon The Deep**

Anubis sat upon his throne in the pel'tak of his mothership, a craft ten times larger than a standard Ha'tak. The huge space itself could easily have served as a grand audience chamber on any planet, with walls lined in gold-leaf, jewels and carvings from the far edges of the galaxy that bespoke of astonishing wealth.

His confidence came from the fact that every single System Lord, and most of their underlords, waited upon him within the halls of his ship. Ba'al was among them, standing with his lotar and a pair of Jaffa permitted as a matter of honor. Everything was, on the surface, as it should have been.

Even so, while he smiled on the outside, inside Ba'al seethed. This was not how he planned it at all. He made sure not to even glance at Her'ur, Qetesh, Apophis or any of the other System Lords who had joined him in his plan. They were to all assemble their fleets, yes, but the plan was for them to stay in their own ships to supervise the battle, and when the Empire of Kheb was destroyed, they would turn their guns on Anubis's mothership.

With their enhanced staff cannons, not even Anubis would have been able to survive a barrage from so many ships.

The plan did not last long past its proposal to Anubis. Instead of allowing his underlings to take their places in the ranks of battle, the Supreme System Lord summoned each of his underlings to attend him personally. Those who attempted to resist, such as the fool Ares, Anubis destroyed so convincingly that Ares own underlords immediately bowed down in subservience.

Now, those who would have destroyed Anubis found themselves bowing to him as he walked past them toward his obsidian throne. He sat slowly and regarded the assembled Goa'uld from behind the shadows of his ever-present cowl. "My brothers and sisters, the time of Goa'uld Ascendency has arrived."

His deep, eerie voice boomed over the huge pel'tak, forcing down the other soft conversations taking place. The many Goa'uld assembled to hear his words, since to ignore Anubis was to risk immediate death from his power.

"Around us assembles the true might of the Goa'uld, not seen since our fight against the Asgard so many centuries before. Twenty-thousand years of history and power rests now at my fingertips, and I shall use that power to utterly destroy the enemies of the Goa'uld. Even now, my spies tell me the fleet of the infidels assembles in a hopeless bid to stop us."

At a grandiose gesture of his arm, the air over the heads of the assembled Goa'uld shimmered into a map of the galaxy. It zoomed in brilliantly until it highlighted one specific sector of space. The Vorash System glowed with the sigil of Anubis. Nearby in the Doran System hung the flame symbol of Kheb. "We have over ten thousand ha'taks," Anubis declared. "We have death gliders, al'kesh and armed tel'taks beyond counting. And against this mighty fleet, the infidels were able to gather only two thousand ships."

Ba'al laughed with the others because it was expected. He could almost feel Anubis' eyes on him, and so he made sure to perform as a loyal servant would. _I will kill this creature,_ he vowed on the inside.

Anubis's grand speech was interrupted, however, when the creature's Prime spun away from his controls and screamed, "My Lord, the sun!"

It was worth the life of a prime to interrupt his lord. For Anubis's prime to do so spoke of terror and desperation. Ba'al turned to see himself, like all of his brethren, as the Vorash star suddenly flashed a brilliant white. "Take us out of here!" Anubis cried out. "Tell all the ships to flee!"

Ba'al, like all his brethren, could see that the star had flashed supernova somehow, against all laws of physics. It could not be a coincidence. Somehow, the Empire of Kheb discovered where their fleet assembled and deployed some terrible weapon to destroy the star. He quickly ran through the calculations of acceleration and hyperspace to the speed of the star's wake and realized, with a sinking feeling of utter rage and shock, the Empire of Kheb had won.

Stellar material blew out in a giant orb at a fraction of the speed of light, enveloping the inner rocky planets of the Vorash system in minutes. The destructive wave of material was already well on its way to the assembled fleet when the light of the star's collapse reached them. Millions of Jaffa warriors desperately began to spool up their hyperdrive engines while still others pulled the ships away from the encroaching destructive wave at sublight.

The sheer density of the assembled fleet, held in a tight formation for the awe-inspiring visuals such formations provided, worked disastrously against the fleeting ships. Ha'taks slammed into each other at sufficient speeds to vaporize both ships despite shielding. Over it all, though, approaching like the walls of creation itself, came the shockwave of stellar ejaculate zooming toward them at speeds almost beyond imagination.

The hologram in the center of the room rushed in on the fleet itself. Ba'al looked to see who was directing it and saw Qetesh at the control panel, while Anubis strode angrily toward his prime. Above Ba'al's head, he watched as the elements on the outskirts of the fleet began to break away, with Anubis' own mothership in their midst. When the stellar mass flew into visual range, he knew it was all over.

The shock of impact sent Goa'uld, Jaffa and the handful of human lotar flying about the interior even of Anubis's great ship. The lights went out as the ship's computer automatically shunted power to its shields. The hologram must have run on a separate system because it continued to display the status of the fleet as ship after ship died in small bursts against the greater mass of the stellar explosion. It swept through the largest fleet in the history of their galaxy, making the massed might of the Goa'uld seem no more important than insects on the ground.

 _We're being stepped on like insects,_ Ba'al thought to himself, while at the same moment running through a thousand different scenarios where he might survive. With the mothership's gravity failing at regular intervals as the stellar mass and the surrounding ships crashed into it, Ba'al thrust his legs out, propelling himself through the crowd of floating bodies toward the far entrance of the pel'tac.

He heard banging behind him, of objects falling, and brought his legs under him just in time for gravity to be restored and fell to the floor in a roll. In less than a second he was back on his feet and running for his life. He knew others of his brethren did the same—he could hear them. Moreover, he _knew_ them. Goa'uld as a race were survivors, far more interested in their own well being than that of others. Altruism to a Goa'uld was a sin few of their kind ever even considered. Egeria was the only one he could think of, and for her crime of spawning the Tok'ra she was sentenced to death.

However, Ba'al was powerful precisely because he was smarter than most of his colleagues. By launching himself from a wall before gravity was restored, he found himself in the lead as he ran not toward the ring room, but to one of the many massive hangars that lined the ship.

He reached the first viable ship, a tel'tak, and rushed inside. From the cockpit, he saw Qetesh and others flowing into the bay. He waved at Qetesh in particular, knowing she would make it. Just as he did not expect her to come to him, she did not expect him to welcome her. Instead, she and the others also sought tel'taks and al'kesh—smaller ships with hyperdrives.

He did not launch, though. Instead, he used the tel'tak to connect with the computers of Anubis mothership to see where things stood. What he saw left him shaken.

Barely ten percent of their fleet escaped the supernova. The paltry twelve hundred ha'taks, mostly those of Ba'al's personal fleet, were assembling well away from the hellish radiation of the supernova, to a system only four light years distant.

The travel time took only minutes. The moment Anubis's ship dropped out of hyperspace, Ba'al launched. Around him, dozens of other small ships did the same, all of them, like Ba'al himself, seeking to escape to their home worlds in an effort to pick up whatever pieces of their individual empires might remain.

However, the moment Ba'al was in open space, he received absolute proof that the destruction of Vorash's primary was a premeditated act of aggression. Space all around the tattered Goa'uld fleet exploded with radiation bursts as ship after ship of the Khebbish navy reverted from hyperspace.

Missiles as large as al'kesh struck the already weakened shields of a hundred ha'taks in a single massive volley, destroying almost every one with a single shot.

Though Ba'al despised Anubis, he had to admit the creature was an able commander. That first volley was the only free shot the Khebbish navy were allowed. Ha'taks quickly fell into tight defensive formations, using each other's shields to bolster the whole. Space came alive with a storm of enhanced staff cannons.

The Khebbish destroyers looked like giant daggers and lashed out with cannons of green and red blasts. However, as Ba'al danced his tel'tak through an increasingly crowded area of space, he noticed a few larger ships that lashed out not with two dozen smaller flashes of green and red, but with one or two thick white beams of destructive energy that reminded Ba'al of the Asgard.

In fact, these ships were the most devastating against Anubis's forces. However, as powerful as they are, they were still machines that could be destroyed. Anubis's massive mothership began to shimmer with building energy until it lashed out with not a single coherent beam of energy, but rather with what looked like a stream of thick white lightning.

The enhanced Khebbish ships that shrugged off a hundred blasts of their most powerful staff cannons shriveled and then exploded under the prolonged burst from Anubis's ship.

For a moment Ba'al had to divert most of attention to flying. Literally thousands of fighters were exchanging fire all around him; it was chance alone that he'd not been hit, or more likely had not collided with another ship.

Despite the devastating loss of over ninety percent of their fleet, Ba'al did not believe that the Khebbish would completely defeat them. Even twelve hundred ships was a massive fleet by any standard, and a fleet that size could not be wiped out in mere minutes. Moreover, Anubis's mothership was worth at least ten ha'taks both in size and firepower.

The Goa'uld would survive this day, he had no doubt.

It just seemed apropos that as soon as Ba'al made that prediction, a Khebbish fighter slammed into his at seventy thousand kilometers a minute. The fighter disintegrated against the denser material of the tel'tak's hull, but the damage was done. Ba'al yelped as he desperately fought to maintain some type of control of his flight vector while at the same time activating emergency force fields to stop the escaping atmosphere from the back passenger area.

By the time he got the nauseating spin under control, his Tel'tak had fallen far from the main theatre of battle. A quick glance at the ship's status told him he would not be going anywhere soon. The hyperdrive wasn't just damaged, the entire quarter of the ship that held the sublight and hyperspace drives was gone, vaporized on impact. The only reason he still lived was because of the emergency naquedah battery and the force fields.

He considered calling for aid, but as he used the attitudinal thrusters in the nose of the ship to position for a better view, he realized there would be no point. Using the cockpit windows, he lensed the view until he could see with his own eyes ha'tak after ha'tak erupting in flame. More and more Khebbish ships were breaking through the line of defending Goa'uld to fire on Anubis's mothership.

There was no doubt the infidels paid for their progress in blood. He could see hundreds of Khebbish destroyers burning and cracked, and many were already dead and cold as they drifted away from the battle.

Anubis's mothership itself was a wonder, lashing out now in multiple streams of lightning against three or four enemy ships at once. However, for every enemy ship destroyed, two took its place with those al'kesh-sized missiles and thick beams of Asgard-like destruction. Even Anubis's shields began to weaken and already the outer rim of the mothership itself burned under increasingly concentrated enemy barrages.

Suddenly the mother-ship began to accelerate away the largest concentration of enemy ships by clearing a path with its massive main weapon. The enhanced Khebbish ships answered with a dozen streams of white energy that pierced the mothership's shields, in staccato succession, each ripping through more and more of the superstructure. At the very last moment, a disc the size of three al'kesh detached from the cylindrical top of the collapsing ship and blasted away between the enemy craft, moving so fast the Khebbish could not fire on it with any effect.

Swarms of fighters fell in behind it, tagging it repeatedly, but the smaller craft's shields were still impressive and withstood the fighters' fire until it burst away in a flash of hyperspacial radiation.

So, Anubis and Anubis alone survived the slaughter of the largest fleet of Goa'uld ships ever assembled. Ba'al shook his head in disgust before sending out a signal for help. He was expecting an al'kesh to decloak—it was not unusual for Jaffa to monitor battles in cloaked ships to save any Goa'uld who made it out alive.

What he got was the shadow of a Khebbish destroyer blocking out the light of the system's distant primary. "Blast," he whispered, a moment before a flash of white removed him from his shattered Tel'tac.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Ba'al woke to a brilliant, stabbing light shining directly into his face and hard, tight bonds securing his hands, feet, thighs, chest and head. He was held so securely he could do nothing but blink. He tried swallowing, but his mouth was so dry he could barely summon saliva.

"So which one is this?" The voice was male, and sounded hard.

"That is Ba'al, a System Lord." The second voice was also male, but deep.

"Ba'al? Yes, I suppose I can see it. He broke the Tok'ra network."

"Indeed."

The light suddenly moved away, allowing Ba'al to see more of his room. He turned his head left and right, looking for information. He saw to his left Qetesh, and to his right Heru'ur, each secured as he was, covered in a white blanket for modesty's sake, and little else.

When the first speaker moved into view, Ba'al realized he was looking at the face of his ultimate enemy. The young man facing him could only have been the Akai'kheb himself. He looked little older than twenty, with such ordinary features as to be laughable, save for a piercing stare and the shimmer of air around his head.

"If you seek ransom, I can reward you richly," Ba'al said.

"I'm sure you could," the young Akai'kheb said dryly. "You wouldn't happen to know where Anubis fled to, would you?"

Ba'al narrowed his eyes. "I do. I might even considering sharing such information, in the right circumstances."

The young man crossed his arms and studied Ba'al with a perfectly blank face. "I see. I like a man willing to negotiate. There's no reason for this to get ugly. Your companions, for instance, chose not to cooperate."

"You killed them?"

"Only the Goa'uld," the Akai'kheb said. "The hosts are now free."

"You care for the hosts?"

"Only to the extent saving them does not inconvenience me," the Akai'kheb said with a casual shrug. "If you attempt to hold your own host as a hostage, I'll sever your head in an instant."

"I see." Ba'al's mind raced. "My price, then, is simple. A ship to escape in and a guarantee of safe passage from your fleet. I wish merely to live."

"I see. Reasonable, I have to admit." The Akai'kheb turned to his companion, who proved to be a strong, well-built Jaffa bearing the mark of Apophis. "What do you think, Teal'c?"

"The Goa'uld are interested only in themselves. Their willingness to betray each other is why we have been so successful in our war against them. I see no reason to think Ba'al lies if the truth will gain him his freedom."

The Akai'kheb continued to stare at Ba'al intently, his face blank. "Give me a world, I'll give you a ship," he finally said.

"Tartarus," Ba'al said without hesitation. "Anubis's development facility is on Tartarus. Only his most trusted lieutenants are allowed to go there."

The Akai'kheb nodded to Teal'c, who disappeared to presumably verify the information. In the tense silence that followed the Jaffa's departure, Ba'al spoke. "How did you destroy the Vorash sun?"

The Akai'kheb merely stood considering him. "How old are you, Ba'al? In human years?"

"You did not answer my question, Akai'kheb. Why should I answer yours?"

"Operational security," the Akai'kheb said. "I was not given the detailed information on how the star was destroyed. But we did destroy it, and we can easily do so again. Moloc was almost ten thousand years old when I raped his mind and stole all the information from him. I'm just curious how old you are."

The spat denial was on Ba'al's lips when he realized that, from Anubis's own words, the Akai'kheb could have been telling the truth. "If you are so powerful, why not do the same to me?"

"It gave me a hell of a headache," the Akai'kheb admitted. "So, how old?"

"By your measure, I am eighteen thousand years old, give or take a few years," Ba'al said with a disarming smile. "I served under Ra as a god on the Tau'ri homeworld for many centuries. Much of your early agriculture you owe to me, personally."

Teal'c returned. "Akai'kheb, our scouts have confirmed a traceable ion trail in the Tartarus System. It appears Anubis did indeed flee there."

The Akai'kheb nodded. "Thank you, Teal'c. Well, Ba'al, you fulfilled your end of the bargain. Gentlemen, ladies, let's suck that worm from his skull. We have a villain to kill."

"You break your own word?" Ba'al shouted, enraged.

"Honesty is for friends and honored enemies," the Akai'khab said coldly. "You're just an insect in another man's body. Kill him."

Ba'al had a brief moment to see a tube descending to his neck, accompanied by his angry roar, before he knew nothing else.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Harry stood in the command deck of the Ancient-Enhanced destroyer _Ascension_ as he stared down on the desolate, tectonically active world that bristled with orbital defense platforms by the dozen. While the world lacked planetary shields, there was a regional shield strong enough to deflect nearly any bombardment for a prolonged period of time.

Teal'c had joined him, as had the Serrikan Admiral Tsoli. "He's down there, gentleman," he said. "I can feel him setting his traps and waiting for us. He wants us to go down there and engage him on his own terms."

"You think he has more of those warriors that killed so many of our men on Astaracha?" Teal'c asked.

"I know he does, I can feel them," Harry said. "Soulless abominations. He has an entire army."

"We can't just leave him here," Tsoli noted. "But our initial estimates are at least twenty thousand casualties to take that place, not to mention the loss of hardware. Those platforms have significant armament."

Harry narrowed his eyes as he considered his options. He knew that Luna and Hermione were both back on Kalmah. He knew that, despite their lopsided victory against the Goa'uld fleet, they still suffered almost forty percent casualties in their fight against the remnant Goa'uld. Of the two thousand capital ships, he had just over twelve hundred that were still in fighting condition. They were still tabulating lost personnel, but the numbers were staggering.

He had no intention of losing any more men to these creatures. "There is an old saying on the Tau'ri homeworld, gentlemen. 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.'"

"Akai'kheb?" Teal'c asked.

"Let's throw a rock at him," Harry clarified.

Harry never authorized the development of mass accelerators because of the size and expense. Directed energy weapons provided much of the same bang for a mere fraction of the cost. But Harry would not deny the sheer destructive energy a well-aimed, large rock could do. In this case, Tartarus had a disproportionately large moon in a surprisingly close orbit.

The moon had approximately 2 percent of the mass of its primary, but that was still significant. Moving that much mass was not a speedy process. On the other hand, the system was unstable to begin with.

At Harry's orders, the surviving twelve-hundred ships of the Khebbish fleet took positions over the far side of the moon away from all of the planet's significant defenses, activated their tractor beams to repulse rather than attract, and turned their sublight drives to full burn.

Each ship quickly reached an equilibrium point between how much thrust they could deliver while maintaining the tractor beam. Individually, or even by the dozens, their efforts would have yielded little results in any appreciable time frame. But one thousand two hundred ships all pushing the moon along a single vector did have an effect.

It was not immediate. In fact, Harry's science division predicted four days. But it was four days without any of Harry's people dying.

On the third day, when the moon's course had been irrevocably altered and was skimming the atmosphere of Tartarus with astonishing effects both to the larger planet's atmosphere and tectonics, Harry could feel Anubis's rage and hatred. The moon was already wreaking incredible damage just from its proximity.

It had the desired effect. A massive ship rose up from the broken surface of the planet. The craft looked almost like a clone of the first mothership they destroyed.

"Order the fleet to take that ship out, all ordinance authorized," Harry ordered coolly.

In the Force, Harry could feel the powerful being's rage as twelve hundred ships began to pour a rain of destructive energy and missiles down. Many of the defensive satellites had been swept away by the moon's imminent collision, leaving Anubis nothing but his own mothership struggling to escape the turbulent atmosphere of the dying world.

Because of the ship's orientation to the surface, it expanded the target area. Even from their formation in extreme high orbit, Anubis's mothership made an easy target, while maintaining sufficient distance and orientation to make any counter attack largely ineffective.

Teal'c joined him on the command deck, while Admiral Tsoli oversaw the coordinated bombardment.

"I must confess I am disappointed," Teal'c said.

"Oh?"

"I was expecting a great, magnificent battle between you and Anubis," the Jaffa general said. "It was to be a legendary battle to tell my grandchildren about."

Harry couldn't help but smile at his friend. "The problem with my fighting the good fight is the number of men who'd lose their lives getting me there. My wives pointed out that my place is no longer on the front lines. And you of all people know I will never risk my people unnecessarily."

"Indeed," Teal'c said with a firm nod.

"The enemy shield is collapsing," Tsoli's voice boomed through the command deck.

The main view zoomed in on the doomed ship. Harry and Teal'c watched in gratified silence as the last true Goa'uld threat began to break up just as it started to achieve low orbit. A cascade of explosions rippled along its surface as Khebbish missiles, disruptor beams and turbolaser cannon blasts slammed into it in an unbroken rain of destruction.

The core of the ship erupted in a huge ball of white plasma as hot as the core of a star, and that was the end of Anubis, and possibly of the Goa'uld themselves.

So why did Harry feel such a surge of danger in the Force?

Not only did he feel danger, it was coming faster and faster.

"Teal'c, back away," Harry said as he too took a step back. As the danger became clearer, he understood. "Admiral Tsoli, evacuate the ship and place all systems in lock down. Put us in a maintenance orbit and then get out. Have the rest of the fleet assume a defensive perimeter and do not allow this ship to leave orbit, no matter what you may hear or see."

"What is happening, Akai'kheb?"

Harry looked at his old friend. "You're going to get the battle you wanted, Teal'c. Anubis is almost here, and he is powerful. Anyone still on this ship when he gets here is in danger. Go, now! This is a battle you can't help with."

With a nod of respect, Teal'c turned to quickly walk away. Overhead, red lights began to blare as the crew hastily evacuated their stations.

Harry remained where he was, waiting with a predatory smile as the danger approached. "Show time."


	50. Qui Es in Caelis

A/N: Review Responses in my forums. Apologies for missing last week-ffa was down and I could not upload anything, either the chapter or review responses.

 **Final note: I will be traveling for the next two Saturdays. Expect the next post on 8/19, where the final part of Stars Alone will begin. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty: _Qui Es In Caelis_**

Cathy Jackson Littlefield was absolutely certain she was going to die.

She couldn't say what possessed her to use what little Force power she had to talk her way onto a berth on one of the Ancient-enhanced destroyers, the _Divine Light_ , but whatever motivated her seemed to put her in a perfect position to see the end of the Goa'uld.

She _talked_ the captain into thinking she was a bridge communications lieutenant, and in fact she knew the role well enough, having had a hand in designing the quantum entanglement interface the system used to take advantage of their Tollan technology.

She supposed, in her own way, she wanted to be a part of what some of her research colleagues were calling the end of the war. Daniel's latest top-heavy girlfriend came up with a plan that even Cathy had to admit was ingenious, and they were going to kill all the Goa'uld without firing a single shot.

Only, that's not the way it worked out.

So Cathy had the honor of sitting on the bridge when the Imperial Navy of Kheb engaged a surviving Goa'uld fleet in the largest ship-to-ship engagement of the war. No one screamed or shouted, not even Cathy. The captain issued orders in a steady voice while keeping her eyes on the tactical display over her command table.

The _Divine Light_ , like the other Ancient Enhanced destroyers, incorporated technology on the very edge of science. Some of it was so advanced it bordered on the miraculous. The ship was not powered by naquedah or fusion, but by an Ancient-inspired Zero Point Module that managed somehow to draw unbelievable amounts of power from the exotic friction between normal space and another dimension beyond even hyperspace.

Cathy knew from the knowledge she helped absorb from her brother than Ancient ZPMs were small enough to carry in a person's hand. However, even having the knowledge, the Empire of Kheb lacked the means of creating a ZPM that small. The ZPMs that powered the AE destroyers were roughly the size of her old house on Kalmah, before her folks died. And yet even that produced more power than any thousand fusion reactors, or any hundred naquedah generators.

The shielding on the _Divine Light_ was comparable to the Ancients in strength, while the new destroyers used powerful, directional particle beam emitters so powerful they disrupted the atomic bonds of their target. The new emitters were better able to channel the immense power from their ZPMs better than a traditional staff cannons or turbo-lasers.

Close defense was handled by more traditional laser and turbolaser cannons scattered at strategic points over the hull, providing a 100% defensive fire range against Death Gliders. The ship's hull was a smooth, silver gray composed of an Ancient mono-carbon weave as strong as diamond. Even if the ship were unshielded, its hull could withstand a heavy bombardment.

Perhaps the most impressive achievement, though, was Uncle Harry's decision to use Goa'uld crystal quantum computers. The Ancient computers were so advanced they bordered on sentience, but the Tripartite Throne made clear they did not want AI in their ships. The Goa'uld borrowed their computer technology from the remnants of the Ancients they discovered, but refined it to ensure there was no possibility of spontaneous sentience. Instead, they created computer systems that vastly simplified the tasks of their underlings, since most Jaffa were intentionally illiterate.

As a result, the new AE Destroyers functioned with a crew of two hundred each instead of the eight hundred that manned the older destroyers of the Empire. The rest of the spacious craft was dedicated to fighter bays and transports capable of landing both men and material on any planet without having to depend on Stargates.

It was, in short, one of the most powerful ships the galaxy had seen since the time of the Ancients. Cathy should have been perfectly safe.

Then she saw another AE destroyer, the _Guidance_ , crumple like an aluminum soda can under a blast of terrifying power from Anubis's mother ship. Worse yet, Captain An'gua, a first generation Mal Jaffa, did not even blink.

"Take us in, fire at will," the tall, ridiculously buxom woman ordered.

Cathy fought back tears of terror and concentrating on routing out the various commands and communications to the appropriate parties not just on her ship, but in the fleet. Around them, Cathy could feel with her limited senses tens of thousands of people screaming in their deaths. Humans, Jaffa, even Goa'uld died in such numbers the Force felt as if it were bleeding.

But more importantly, they were flying toward a ship that could swat them down like an insect.

"Enemy shields are collapsing, Captain!" someone shouted. Cathy didn't know the names or even positions of everyone on the ship. It's not as if she'd ever actually been trained for her job.

"Full power to disruptors!" the captain said emphatically. "Fire the hurricanes, full broadside!"

"Missiles away!"

Cathy glanced up briefly, despite her duties, and watched as five car-sized missiles zoomed away on narrow contrails toward the burning enemy mother ship. White disruptor beams slammed into it from not just theirs, but the other AE ships, while the rest of the fleet hammered away with turbolasers.

She caught a glimpse of the enemy command module detaching and flying away only moments before the main body of the mothership erupted. She cheered right along with the rest of the command staff. It seemed like the war against the Goa'uld was finally over.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

After the numbing terror of the final, cataclysmic battle, the four days that followed numbed her with boredom.

Cathy was an intelligent woman carrying knowledge from an Ancient Database and a mind powerful enough to understand most of it. She knew very well what Uncle Harry hoped to accomplish by having the fleet push the moon. In fact, she even agreed with it. The planet Tartarus was uninhabited except for Anubis and his forces. Why fight a costly ground battle when he can just throw a rock on them?

But by the Force it was _so_ boring!

Then the orders came through. Cathy almost had to kick herself awake to route them correctly.

The captain had just returned to duty after a shift change when the orders came through. She left her tactical station and stood in the center for the command deck. "Cancel tractor, take us to formation coordinates as ordered," she announced.

The tension in the bridge escalated as people realized something was happening. The _Divine Light_ joined hundreds of other ships in high orbit, falling into a parabolic umbrella over Anubis's base. Cathy pulled up her own display of the situation and saw yet another massive mothership rising from the surface.

This time, however, there was no fleet of ha'taks to fight with it. "All weapons, fire at will on target," the captain crowed, obviously exultant.

This time was nothing like the last. Anubis's mothership was out of position to make any effective counter attack. It was, plainly, a desperate retreat from the certain death the collapsing moon would cause. Admiral Tsoli positioned the Khebbish fleet perfectly and pummeled the rising craft with deadly efficiency. It was a testament to just how powerful the ship's shielding was that it made low orbit at all. However, in this case the end was never in doubt. The ship exploded in a ball of plasma.

The rest of the bridge cheered, but Cathy sat staring at the plasma in confusion. Why did she feel such a sudden, deep sense of dread?

New orders came through and her stomach clenched. With the captain standing, she wouldn't see the orders routed. "Captain!" she called. "The _Ascension_ has ordered an evacuation! We're to assume a defensive formation and not permit it to evacuate. Sir, Admiral Tsoli has ordered us to beam his command crew aboard. He is transferring his flag, ma'am!"

"Helm, take us closer to the flagship," the captain ordered. She looked to Cathy. "Pass the orders to the beam room."

"Yes, captain!"

Cathy did as instructed. In seconds, columns of white light flashed around the bridge as the command staff was beamed directly to the bridge. She knew from her relay that other ships were also beaming crew aboard. In mere seconds, the _Ascension_ sat empty.

She turned to see the reptilian admiral, Tsoli, step toward Captain An'gua. "Permission to come aboard."

"Granted. Situation?"

The admiral looked from Captain An'gua to the viewer. "Somehow Anubis has survived the destruction of his craft and has engaged the Akai'kheb in personal combat aboard the _Ascension._ The Akai'kheb personally ordered us to…"

The admiral stopped speaking and stared, his jaw agape. The rest of the bridge crew, both of the _Ascension_ and the _Divine Light_ , did the same. Cathy actually rose from her seat, covering her mouth with her hands.

A pillar of fire somehow bisected the _Ascension._ The fire was impossible—it should not have been able to burn at all in the vacuum of space. And yet there it was, reaching toward the front of the ship like some primordial beast.

The ship suddenly exploded in a ball of plasma that momentarily dulled the viewer. But when the light cleared, Cathy saw the impossible.

Someone zoomed the viewer into the two epicenters of the explosion. They saw a small figure in the center of the storm of fire facing against a small spot of shadow in an equal-sized pillar of visible darkness—a shadow lined in brilliantly glowing blue.

"By the Thrones!" Captain An'gua shouted, momentarily forgetting her station. The admiral beside her made no move to correct her, either.

In the Force, the power the two opponents unleashed buffeted Cathy's senses like mallets so hard she found herself growing faint. She'd risen to her feet, but now started to collapse backward until a pair of strong hands caught her shoulders. Shaken and mute, she looked over her shoulder to see Teal'c staring back at her, resplendent in the grays and blues of the Khebbish army.

"You should not be here, Cathy Jackson," Teal'c said.

She was caught. She knew she was caught—her science position did not entitle her to stand on the bridge, much less even be aboard, and she patently played with people's minds to get to where she was. But all she could say when she saw the large, muscular Jaffa general was: "Can you feel it, Teal'c? Can you feel them fighting? It feels like gods killing each other!"

She must have spoken too loudly. "General Teal'c, is that…is that Prince Daniel's sister?" Admiral Tsoli asked in dismay.

"It is, Admiral," Teal'c said, without releasing her.

Tsoli started to say something more when outside, space seemed to tear apart. The pillars of living fire and visible darkness clashed together. The tearing, ringing sound of it drove Cathy to her knees with a cry.

Abruptly, it was over. The battle was over, Anubis was destroyed. And Harry…

"Teal'c, Uncle Harry is hurt!" Cathy cried. "He won, but he's hurt!"

"Captain, we're scanning but there's so much interference we can't…"

Cathy jumped from Teal'c's arms and ran toward the helmsman. "Move! I can feel where he is!"

The helmsmen barely had time to squawk before Cathy used what power she had to Force-push him from his station. She sat down and brought their sublights up just a fraction of an inch, bringing the ship into the cloud of exotic matter released from the battle.

As soon as they passed through the quickly-expanding cloud, they could see him. Cathy manipulated the viewer and zoomed in until they could see the Akai'kheb, his uniform burned away to reveal his naked, blackened form floating in the midst of a glowing, golden ball of light.

"We can't beam him aboard," another technician announced.

Cathy, though, shook her head and tried to remember Auntie Hermione's training. "One with the Force," she whispered. "For Harry."

"What is she doing?" the captain shouted. "She's going to ram him!"

"Captain, remember that this is Cathy Jackson, sister to Prince Daniel," Teal'c said with surprising calm. "While she does not share the prince's strength, she does share the nature of his power. If anyone here can save the Akai'kheb, it is her. Let her be."

Cathy spun the ship on its ventral axis. "Forward hangar bay," she said aloud in a distant voice as she concentrated. "Someone needs to be there to catch him."

"I will go," Teal'c said. He ran from the bridge even as he said it.

Cathy, meanwhile, cut the ship's forward drive and began using positioning thrusters to slow it. At their current speed, Harry would enter the hangar at the speed of an old terran bullet. She needed to slow even more.

"We've lost him on viewer," someone noted. Cathy didn't even know who.

"I can _feel_ him, I don't need to see him," she said absently, lost to the Force. "He's the Akai'kheb. I could feel his power anywhere."

 _Slowly, oh so slowly_. She fired the breaking thrusters even more, piloting by instinct and the Force itself. She'd connected to it in a way she never imagined possible for herself, and for the first time, surrendered herself utterly to its guidance.

Finally, she settled back and let out a long breath of released tension. " _I have the Akai'kheb,_ " Teal'c's voice boomed through the command deck. " _Prepare sick bay. We are on the way."_

 _She did it._ Somehow, she saved Uncle Harry's life.

A hand on her shoulder reminded her of her situation. She looked up into the somber, reptilian features of Admiral Gaspar Tsoli. "It appears, _lieutenant_ , that you have some explaining to do."

"Yeah," Cathy agreed, right before she passed out.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

 _Wake up._

Cathy blinked her eyes against the gum sealing her lids shut. She lifted an arm and wiped the gunk away until she could blink freely. A glance around revealed that she was in a darkened VIP med center room on board the ship. A few feet away, covered only by a blanket, lay Harry Potter. And standing between them was a ghost glowing a faint, scintillating shade of blue.

"Why are you here, Jack?" Cathy asked, as if in a dream.

The ghost of Jack O'Neill shrugged just like he used to do in real life, his hands in his pockets. _Just hanging around. Not much to do when you're dead._

Cathy frowned at the answer. "He killed you."

 _Yep. Sure did. Hurt, too, let me tell you._

Trembling with a strange energy Cathy couldn't identify, she slid from her bed to the cold, solid ceramic tile. Instantly it warmed under her touch. Doing so, she saw she wore nothing but a hospital gown open at the back, without even knickers.

Stumbling a little, she stepped to Harry's side and saw he wore even less than that—simply a white sheet over his lower body. The air over his skin shimmered with heat. The skin itself looked burned and ill, and yet as she watched a little piece of burned flesh sloughed off to reveal new, unblemished skin underneath.

"He's healing," she whispered. "He looked like a lump of charcoal, but now he's healing."

 _Yep. No doubt, he's a powerful bastard._

"Bastard," she repeated. A single tear traced down her face. "He killed you. Murdered you."

 _Yes he did._ The ghost of Jack meandered around to the other side of the table and stared down at his own murderer. _He couldn't satisfy his own women, so killed me for doing it for him._ _You know what's worse? After he killed me for making Hermione happy, he went back and fucked her until she bled a little. And she thanked him for it. He is a bastard, and those two wives of his are nutjobs."_

Worse yet, Cathy could easily see it. She knew that Daniel had harbored a crush for many years on Auntie Luna, and the much older woman never really discouraged it. It wasn't unusual for her to dress in form-fitting or revealing clothes during their training. Cathy remembered even during her short period of training catching a glimpse of Luna's breasts. She knew Daniel saw. No wonder he was so screwed up with women.

And they killed Jack. Lovely, kind Jack. Jack, who was such a good lover even the divine _Anu_ Blessed Hermione took him to her bed. "Could you have loved me like you loved her, Jack?"

 _Oh, yes._

She stared down at Harry Potter, unconscious and clearly recovering from terrible injuries, and suddenly realized that it would be simplicity itself to kill him. She could crush his windpipe with a single blow—she was strong enough for that.

 _No you're not._

She looked up in horror at the ghost. He met her gaze squarely. _You're not strong enough to kill him, not right now. If you tried, he'd kill you by instinct. No one on this plane of existence has the power to kill him, not yet. The only one who could ever harm him is someone born and trained with the same type of power. They would need Magic and the Force._

"I heard mother talking once, when they thought I was asleep," Cathy said softly. "Back on Kalmah, when it was still called Cartego. She snuck out at night and watched Harry, Luna and Hermione perform a fertility ritual. I remember mother admitting to Dad and Papa and Nana Littlefield that she was willing at the time to volunteer for the ritual herself. Luna told her not to, because she _would_ get pregnant."

She blinked back tears and looked up to see Ghost Jack staring at her intently. "Would…would his child have his powers?"

 _Don't know. But I do know he didn't want children. He could have had any woman in the Empire. He could go through ten woman a night if he wanted to, and they'd all thank him for the honor, just like Hermione. But he doesn't, because he doesn't want kids. Wonder why?_

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, Cathy threw his sheet off, revealing the rest of his body. His legs, like his torso, were quickly healing. However, his penis and scrotum looked unaffected and healthy. "Of course," she whispered. "His magic protects what's important to him."

The energy she woke up with crackled inside of her, like a thunderclap. She looked up at Ghost Jack. "He'll kill me."

 _No he won't. Your brother won't let him. This, Cathy, was what you were meant to do. You and your brother each had a destiny. Daniel's was to lead the Empire when they're gone. Yours is to ensure the path of their departure is made clear. What you do today, Cathy, is a hallowed thing. This moment will be remembered as the origin of this galaxy's future._

The air shimmered, and suddenly she was alone with a naked Harry. The energy inside of her, though, didn't let up. She padded quickly to the door and locked it before returning to his bed. She leaned over and took him in her mouth until he hardened. Then it was a simple matter to climb onto the bed and mount him.

The ecstasy of it was incredible, filling her soul with his magic just as much as he filled her canal. "Hermione," he whispered as she bounced on him. He was still unconscious from his injuries even as his body responded to her.

She leaned down even as she continued to move, grinding into him. With her Force persuasion, she pushed that thought toward him. "Yes, Harry," she whispered. "Love me, Harry. Love me!"

Even with his eyes closed, his body did as she asked. Strong hands gripped her hips and her grinding turned into a strong bounce. She threw her head back, encompassed wholly by the sheer power of him. She was no virgin, but by God this was the most incredible sex she'd ever had, and Harry wasn't even wholly conscious!

She felt the moment he came within her. She could feel him pulsing not just with seed, but with power. It felt almost as if she were being stabbed by electricity, only in the best possible way. The sensation left her twitching and shivering as a wave of orgasms swept through her.

" _Hermione_ ," Harry whispered in his sleep. _"I'm sorry._ "

Cathy froze, still impaled though she could feel him becoming flaccid. She'd never heard Harry use those words before, much less heard the sheer _emotion_ in them. Carefully she dismounted, and then searched around for a small cloth to wipe away the mess. She fixed the sheet back in place and wiped herself as well before she walked back to the table.

She laid down, staring at him, as the little bolts of lightning continued to strike between her legs. Somehow, she knew she had just conceived the child of the Akai'kheb, and that he would one day be just as powerful as his father.

Maybe even more. "A hallowed thing I do," she whispered before allowing herself to slip off to sleep.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

 _They knew_.

The moment Luna looked at Cathy when they arrived back at Kalmah, the Vice Empress knew. If Cathy still weren't buzzing with that odd, exhilarating energy she herself would not have felt the sudden surge of anger and even worry from the shorter woman.

Luna hid it well, though, as she greeted Cathy with a hug. Officially, the 'princess' of the Empire was being greeted as a hero for her part in helping save the Akai'kheb after his titanic battle against the demon Anubis. It was already being spun by all the media. As cynical as she was, Kathy couldn't even really argue with the version of events they described. Anubis really did feel like a demonic entity, and Harry displayed almost god-like power in destroying him.

Despite the past few years trying to distance herself from the Thrones, Cathy found herself sucked back in. The Prime Minister and representatives from both houses of Parliament greeted her like a long lost friend. She found her days filled with banquets.

The war as such was far from over. While the Goa'uld lost their fleet and their leadership, they still had millions of Jaffa and hundreds of Goa'uld underlords on hundreds of planets to direct them. But without a central fleet, the Goa'uld had lost all possibility of space superiority. Which meant a single Khebbish destroyer could park in orbit on a Goa'uld strong world and pick apart its defenses until they could land ground troops with a minimum of resistance.

Cathy read about all this on the infonets, of course. There were dozens of stories talking about how information officers and loyal Jaffa now accompanied all mission to the planets, hoping to recruit more Jaffa with the promise of freedom for their children. Human slaves rebelled easily, with many worlds welcoming the Khebbish soldiers as saviors.

The war wasn't over, but it was far closer to being won than at any other time in history.

Finally, after a whirlwind week, Cathy collapsed in her spacious apartment in the Imperial Palace, staring up at the gauze of an extravagant four-poster bed, and wondered what she was going to do.

The question was answered for her when Auntie Hermione appeared with a pop at the foot of her bed. Her frizzy hair was gathered up and mostly hidden in a navy blue beret. Her clothes in general were dark as well; a heavy blue sweater under a black coat and dark grey slacks with fur-lined boots. It was a quiet reminder of just how cold it was outside.

Cathy noticed the lightsaber at Hermione's waist, and the gleam of the kara'kesh on her left hand. She'd grown up around Luna and Hermione, even before her parents died. She'd never been afraid of them, however, until she saw Hermione's expressionless face staring at her.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked.

"You raped my husband."

Cathy wouldn't help but wince. But she wasn't ready to apologize. "He murdered my friend, after you seduced him."

"An eye for an eye, then?"

"A life for a life. You both owed me a life, Auntie."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're pregnant."

"Yes." She raised her chin defiantly. She never had a chance to protest or fight before an invisible force gripped her and pulled her toward Hermione. The moment the taller woman's hands gripped her arm, the world spun around them until they appeared right before the stargate. What once had been an open staging field was now a massive dome keeping out the harsh elements.

"I thought it wasn't safe to teleport pregnant women or young children," Cathy cried out.

"You're not that pregnant, yet," Hermione said. She glared at the nearby dialing pedestal and an address began to dial almost as if by its own volition. Cathy meanwhile was looking around for someone to help her, but of course there was on one. Even if there were, what could they do against the Vice Empress?

The gate lit up, and despite her tries Cathy could not break free from Hermione's steely grip as she let her through the gate. A moment later they appeared in the middle of an ancient, primeval forest. Tall, narrow trees seemed to reach up almost to the sky.

"Keep walking," Hermione said.

Cathy tried not to shiver. "Daniel will never forgive you," she said.

"Daniel's the only reason you're still breathing," Hermione snapped. "When Harry found out, he was going to kill you. Daniel was the only reason he hasn't. This is our compromise."

They stopped by a collection of huts. Cathy glared at the primitive conditions as one of the natives approached. "Oh look—someone with worse hair than yours," she snarked, fighting to control her terror.

Hermione, however, simply let go of Cathy's arm and stepped to the newcomer. She appeared to be a humanoid female with a wild mess of hair, sticks and moss on her head. She dressed in an oddly organic, pink tunic with various patches of color. It did not look woven so much as grown.

"Who are you?" the newcomer said.

 _In Khebbish._

"She's not speaking Khebbish, Cathy,"Hermione corrected, somehow reading Cathy's mind. "She's just powerful enough to make sure her intent is clear, just as she can understand us regardless of what language we speak. Daniel learned of her kind from the knowledge we absorbed from the Ancient Library. She is Nox."

The strange creature looked from Hermione to Cathy with growing confusion and alarm, while Cathy felt her stomach drop. "One of the Five Great Races?"

"Who are you?" the woman asked again. "Why are you here?"

Hermione raised both hands, showing the kara'kesh to the Nox's alarm, and then slowly removed it until her hands were bare. "My name is Hermione Potter. I am the Vice Empress of the Empire of Kheb. A few days ago, we destroyed the massed Goa'uld fleet and are preparing to face the coming Enemy. You would know them as the Ori."

The woman looked as if she had been struck. "How can you know this?"

"Your former allies, the Alterans, picked my husband as their champion on this plane. We will fight for the citizens of this galaxy against the Enemy so that you do not have to."

The woman shook her head. "Take your fighting elsewhere. We cannot help you."

"I did not come looking for a fight, or to ask you to fight for us," Hermione said. "We understand it is not your way. Instead, I've come to beg your help for this young woman."

The figure frowned at Cathy. "She is pregnant."

Cathy knew for a fact she wasn't showing yet. How did everyone know?

"She is." Hermione stepped toward the other woman, but slowly. "I know you can sense power in others. Can you sense mine?"

Hesitantly, the other woman nodded. "And in her as well, though much less so."

Hermione glanced back at Cathy before returning her attention to the Nox. "For all our power, we are still very young. We make mistakes, and sometimes the consequences can be terrible. I made a mistake, and in so doing hurt this young woman in a way I never intended. In her youth and pain, she hurt me back. But the consequence to her is much, much more dire than to me or mine. If she stays—if the child she bears stays with us—both will be killed. So, I have come to ask if the Nox will provide a refuge for this young woman and her child, against her enemies, and the law that would see her dead."

"It is not our way to hold anyone against their will," the woman said. "But likewise, it is our way to help where we can."

Hermione nodded before stepping back to Cathy. "The life you carry wasn't yours to take," Hermione said, a tear slowly tracing its way down her cheek. "I understand why. I really do. If you leave this world, we'll know. Harry views the child you carry as a threat. I'm sorry, Cathy, but even Luna agrees if that child leaves this world, he'll become a danger to us. So, you have to make a decision. I won't force you. You can choose to stay, and perhaps learn from the Nox, or you can run for it."

She then surprised Cathy by taking the shorter brunette into a tight hug. "I swear to you, I never meant to hurt you. I'm so, so very sorry."

She stepped back and studied Cathy's numb face with teary eyes before she simply disappeared with a pop back to the stargate. She could hear it swishing in the distance as Hermione left the world.

Only after Hermione was gone did Cathy feel hot, angry tears pouring down her cheeks. She almost jumped when a gentle hand touched her shoulder. The Nox was looking at her with eyes the color of tree bark. "What is your name?"

"Cathy," she whispered.

"Cathy, do you wish to stay?"

Suddenly Cathy's knees collapsed as the true weight of her situation hit her. After the storm passed, she took a deep sobbing breath at the strange creature before her who looked human, but was not. "I have no place else to go," she admitted.

"Then you will be welcome here until you do. I am Lya. Come, I we will find food for you."

Fighting back waves of grief and panic, Cathy let the Nox help her to her feet and guide her to the nearby huts, where her exile would begin.


	51. Annointed

A/N: Chap 50 review responses on in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Part IV: The Enemy At the Gates**

 **Chapter Fifty-One: Anointed**

"Mum?"

Cathy Jackson looked up from the pottery wheel. Fortunately, she'd not long started her latest project when her son stepped into the hut. As so often happened lately, Cathy almost forgot she was looking at her son of just twelve years. Instead, she found herself drifting to the face of his father.

If she were honest, though, Amhar looked much more handsome than Harry Potter ever would. Her son, at twelve, already approached six feet in height. He wore his rich black hair long, to his shoulders. Brilliant, almost inhuman green eyes looked about him with a continuing sense of wonder, as if he could see things she could not.

Being a child infused with both his mother's Force gift and his father's magical strength, she realized he probably could see things she could not. Her own boost in the Force faded shortly after he was born, and she was never again more than just mildly talented. It was as if she gained power not just from his presence in her womb, but from the mere potential of his presence.

"What is it, son?" Looking at his youth and vigor, Cathy suddenly felt old and used up. It was a foolish thought, though. She was only forty-two. Despite living in the forests of the Nox home world, the Nox made sure her life was not too difficult. She found food by her hut every morning, and sometimes Lya would come and speak with her about the Force, or about the choices that led to her permanent exile for the last twelve years.

"The air feels strange," Amhar said.

Cathy removed the wet clay from her wheel and stored it in water. She washed her hands and pulled on a shirt to cover her bare chest. "Tell me," she said as she finished cleaning up so she could give her son her full attention. These episodes of his had begun just in the past few months—Amhar would sense something in the air and would remain unsettled for days on end if he couldn't talk about it.

The two left her hut and moved onto one of the many paths around the seemingly endless forest. Cathy knew the Nox themselves lived in a massive city floating on a cloud of anti-gravity in the lower atmosphere of the planet. The city near them was just one of two dozen that floated around the world. She suspected if the Goa'uld ever came in force the Nox could fly their cities off the planet entirely, invisible the entire time. Cathy learned that the Nox abhorred confrontation of any kind. Their dislike was not just limited to violence. Even in their personal communication, a mild disagreement was enough to make a Nox shake in anguish.

For a woman who grew up living for the thrill of a good debate, her last twelve (almost thirteen) years living with the Nox had been tantamount to hell. But she did it anyway, for her son. She studied his profile even now as they walked. He may have had Harry's hair and eyes, but his nose, chin and cheeks were hers, and it made for a breathtakingly beautiful boy.

Nor was the beauty confined to his face. She'd never heard of any twelve-year-old with the musculature of a man of twenty. But he truly looked like an Adonis, molded from the ideal specimen of the male form. Sometimes she regretted she was his mother, because it seemed impossible that any woman could resist him.

"Can you tell me about it?" Cathy asked.

He shrugged. Though he looked like a male supermodel, he was still only twelve and often times lacked the vocabulary to describe his feelings. Considering he was fluent in Goa'uld, English, Nox, Alteran and Furling, that said a great deal. Though the Nox left them largely to their own devices, Lya or others found themselves drawn to Amhar just like Cathy herself, and the boy soaked up information with amazing speed.

"Something's about to happen," he finally said. "Something important."

Cathy closed her eyes and tried to connect to the Force. Through most of her life, her connection had been weak. Now, though, her son acted almost like a signal booster, because the feeling flooded into her. Something important _was_ going to happen, and it was going to happen in moments.

It should not have surprised her when their meandering footsteps led them to the Stargate. What did surprise her were the two figures who stood on either side of it. The first was Lya, unchanged in the years from when Cathy first met her. The Nox were ageless. If they died, ever, Cathy had never felt or heard of it. The ageless woman stood perfectly still, looking at Cathy with dark eyes gleaming with intelligence, but also concern.

Opposite the gate from Lya stood an unknown figure draped in powder-blue and white robes. He had a hood over his head, but his face was exposed to reveal bone-white skin lined in what Cathy recognized were truly ancient, Pre-Alteran runic symbols. In one hand he carried a brown leather book, and in the other a long staff topped with a white crystal. Though her eyes saw only the man, around him her other senses detected the Force screaming as if in pain. The air around him shimmered, repelled from his presence because of a deep core of black, black fire that burned in his chest where his soul should have been. This figure was not a man—not a human. Whatever _animus_ he once possessed had been burned out, leaving only the black fire of an ancient, malevolent power.

"Ori," she whispered, recognizing the Enemy from her portion of the Ancient knowledge.

"The time has come," the prior of the Ori announced in a booming voice. "What was foretold has come to pass. You, Catherine Jackson, have fulfilled your destiny. The Ori are pleased with you. Through you has the true Chosen One, the Champion of the Ori, been born. In him the truth of Origin and the light of the Ori shall wash away the sins and evil of this galaxy. The time has come. Catherine Jackson, Amhar Potter, your destiny awaits."

"Lya?" Cathy called, confused and terrified for her son.

"It must be your choice, as always," Lya said, sounding sad yet distant. "The Ori cannot touch you if you stay here. That, I suspect, was why your aunt brought you here of all places."

"The choice has already been made, as it was foretold," the Ori creature boomed out. "The choice was made when you conceived the Chosen One. The prophecy was fulfilled. All that remains is to embrace the consequences of your choice. I name your son Orici. In this vast expanse that has sheltered evil and been led astray, he will be the beacon of light in the darkness. He shall be the truth and the light and the way to the warriors of the Ori, and to all who follow the true Path to salvation. With the wisdom of ages, he shall lead us to glorious victory over any and all unbelievers. And you, as the mother of the Orici, shall be loved and heralded as she who brought the Savior to us. Holy days will be appointed to celebrate you. You shall have the companionship you have always wanted. You shall have riches and regard and fame. All that you have always sought shall be yours. All you must do is choose to follow the Path set out before you."

Amhar took her hand and gazed at her with his heavenly eyes. "I understand now, mother," he said with a rapturous look of joy on his face. "I can see it now. All those dreams I've been having, they all make sense now! I _am_ the Orici. I am their champion, just like my father is the champion of the true Enemy. You see it, don't you? Harry Potter isn't the bridge to heaven, he is a bridge to damnation! And it will be up to me to save him, or destroy him." He lifted her hand to his lips, and with the touch of those lips against her palm a wave of almost sexual energy shivered down her spine.

She didn't even look at Lya as the Stargate activated of its own accord and she and her son followed the Prior of the Ori through. When they were gone, Lya quietly wiped her eyes. The gate activated again, without dialing, and without another look the Nox disappeared through it.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

YOUR FREEDOM IS A LIE!

WE DON'T WANT YOUR FALSE GODS!

IMPS GO HOME!

Hermione sat in the back seat of the heavily armored transport as it rolled along a cordoned street toward the former palace of the Morrigan on the world of Magtireth. Behind hastily erected barriers and lines of Imperial soldiers thousands of people shouted out their rage at Hermione's transport caravan, hers being the third of five armored cars that carried them from the stargate to the palace.

Signs written in Goa'uld expressed the rage of a people who never surrendered even after their goddess died in the Battle of Doran, along with the rest of the Goa'uld System Lords. Magtireth never joined the Empire of Kheb—they were conquered in the months that followed the breaking of the Goa'uld fleet.

Even fourteen years after their conquest—fourteen years of education and intensive propaganda —the majority of the planet continued to hate and protest their Imperial occupiers. Hermione's presence that day was the result of a riot in the capital city of Balor that left almost two thousand dead, a disturbing number of which were Imperial soldiers.

"Some would call that an open rebellion," Luna noted dryly during their briefing the previous day.

Hermione did not want to go; her seventy-first birthday was a week away and Harry promised to take her on a vacation. Fourteen years and his unwillingly fathering a child with another woman went a long way in helping ease the tension between them from her own infidelity, but they still didn't spend as much time together as she wanted. Things were better than they were, but not as good as she hoped.

She needed the vacation. The past fourteen years were the hardest she, Harry and Luna ever experienced in their roles as sovereigns of the Empire. That was because of the sheer number of worlds that continued to oppose them, both within and without the Empire. Some, like Magtireth, hovered on the edge of open and continuous rebellion. Some, like the ancestral Jaffa home world of Dakara, formed the backbone of a Jaffa party within Parliament that did everything in its power to hamper Imperial policy, but always within the framework of the law. Their leader, Minister Gerak, made sure to never step over the line of treason.

Fortunately the Jaffa party remained a minority within Parliament, and Luna's projections showed that within two generations it would diminish further as more and more Jaffa elected to have their children become Mal Jaffa. However, within the fresh infusion of almost one hundred and fifty worlds of mixed Jaffa and humans, even as minority leader Gerak wielded considerable power.

Which came down to the last but greatest reason she did not want to come that day: Gerak sat beside her in the back of the transport, clad in traditional cream-colored Jaffa robes, while reading a data pad. Gerak was a tall, lean man with thinning to non-existent hair and a sharp, angry set to his features.

The former First Prime of Montu was an effective public speaker and assumed his office despite the fact he never actually left Montu's service until the Goa'uld underlord died. The Jaffa of Dakara chose to join the Empire and elected him as their minister, but the relationship was never good. According to General Teal'c, the man hated anyone who would dare give him orders.

"The people seem less than pleased by your presence, your Majesty," he noted without looking up from his pad. His tone sounded completely neutral.

"So it seems," Hermione said. "We can't compel love, nor would we want to."

"Just compliance?" he asked, looking up from his pad with what for him was a wry smile, though his eyes drifted past her to look out the transparisteel windows at the crowds beyond. Despite the insulation, armor and shields around each transport, the angry roar of the crowds had a visceral impact.

"Fourteen hundred Jaffa died in the riots last week." He lifted the pad to illustrate.

"As did almost six hundred Imperial soldiers," Hermione returned. "According to the governor, the protestors were given a route to march on, time and space to express their anger, and a promise of no recrimination. Instead, they ignored the planned route and rioted through the administrative sections of the gubernatorial palace and entered into open battle against Imperial forces. I regret any loss of life, Minister, but it is difficult for me to pity those who died as a direct result of their own crimes."

"No matter how just their cause?"

"I find questions of justness to be entirely too subjective to be valid, Minister."

"And interesting position for one of the Tripartite," Gerak said. He nodded. "Majesty."

Hermione tried to hold her anger as the man quickly disengaged from challenging her too far. Sometimes she felt every one of her years, while others, such as while in the present of the 172-year-old Jaffa, she felt young and inexperienced. The Force itself was oddly silent as well, making her feel even more uncertain.

The transports broke through the crowds and entered a shielded compound right in front of the opulent gubernatorial palace which previously belonged to Morrigan. Governor Montral, Hebridan by birth but an adopted son of Kalmah, stood waiting for her with his hands behind his back.

He bowed from the waist as she approached. "Your Divine Majesty," he said in greeting. He stood and nodded respectfully to Gerak. "Minister. While I regret the reason for your visit, nonetheless I am honored. Ordinarily I would offer you a tour, but given that I received my first tour of the palace from your majesty, I suspect that would be redundant. I do have quarters prepared if you wish to refresh yourselves."

"Thank you, Tinan, but I do believe it's best to get started," Hermione said. While most planets within the empire were allowed a certain level of autonomy, planets such as this one were ruled by governors either appointed or approved by the Tripartite Throne. Tinan Montral was one of her personal appointments.

"Of course, your majesty."

He led them through the sprawling, opulent palace. She noted with approval that most of the gold, titanium and naquedah paneling had been removed and smelted down from the palace, replaced by painted plaster. The proceeds from the precious metals were used to help fund the education initiative on the planet, for what good it was doing.

The conference with the Jaffa opposition on the planet took place within one of Morrigan's many boudoirs, each as large as the Solarium on Kalmah. This one still had much of the gold leaf on the walls, though the many formal portraits of the dead Goa'uld were gone, replaced by a formal portrait of the Tripartite Throne. Hermione hid a wince when she saw the gold-leaf halo the artist painted over her and Luna's head. The artist was obvious of Eridu origin since the halo had become incorporated in her cult there. The three ethereal beings in that portrait may have looked vaguely like Hermione, Luna and Harry in their faces, but felt like someone else entirely in their royal finery and divine trappings.

For the day, Hermione wore baby blue culottes and a loose blouse arranged to hide her lightsaber and the heavily charmed body armor she wore under it. Her guard, a body of ten dedicated rangers hand-picked by Harry himself, took up secure positions around the room.

The planetary opposition chose a Jaffa named Anir'Danu as their speaker. The woman stood as tall as Ishta, a head taller than Hermione herself. For a moment, Hermione regretted not bringing Ishta with her. As she approached, she dismissed those doubts and centered herself in the Force. She was Empress, and she would have this situation resolved one way or the other. Hopefully she could find a peaceful solution, but she wasn't leaving until these riots stopped.

Anir'Danu neither nodded nor bowed; a sign of contempt that Hermione chose to ignore as she sat down at the around table. Governor Montral sat beside her on her right, while Gerak sat to her left mid-way between her and the other Jaffa.

Before any formal greetings or introductions could be made, Anir'Danu spoke. "The people of Magtireth reject the authority of the Empire of Kheb. We reject your claims to this world or its people, and demand that you withdrawal from this world and its system immediately."

Hermione would have been stunned by the woman's impertinence if she were not already familiar with the Jaffa method of diplomacy.

"The Empire of Kheb owns this world by Right of Conquest in accordance with your own traditions, and by the Khebbish Accords of Year 32. More importantly, this system is one of strategic importance to the security of the Empire." Hermione spoke firmly as she met the taller woman's gaze. "We will not withdraw. So then the question becomes whether you wish to live as responsible citizens of the Empire, or as conquered subjects. But know that I am not leaving until your people have chosen one, or the other."

The Jaffa woman did not even try to control her angry flush or the flaring of her nostrils. Hermione wondered for a brief moment if the warrior was foolish enough to resort to violence, but evidently even on Magtireth they knew how powerful the tripartite were.

"Perhaps there is another way to resolve this conflict," Gerak said into the tense silence. "I've recently been contacted by an interested third party that might be able to find a different solution."

Hermione felt the first hints of warning in the Force. She turned and studied Gerak's seemingly earnest face. "There are no other interested parties involved, Minister. This is an issue between the people of Magtireth and the Empire."

"With all due respect, Majesty, there are always other interested parties," Gerak said. His smile took on a sinister hint at the corners. "The universe is, after all, a very large place."

A previously hidden door opened and two people stepped into the boudoir. The first was a tall, strikingly handsome young man who, despite his height, looked so young he didn't appear to even be shaving yet. He had a head of rich black hair and sharp, planed cheeks that made him look almost like a New Hebridan sports model. What was most striking about him, though, were his eyes. They were the exact shade as Harry's.

Something about him made it difficult to look away, but when she did she felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She rose to her feet, aware that her rangers all around the room had come to attention and had their hands on their weapons. "Cathy!"

"Hello, Aunt Hermione," Cathy Jackson said with a feral smile. She looked beautiful and slim, glowing with health, power and good living. "This is my son, Amhar. We represent a new power in the galaxy."

Like a veil dropping, suddenly Hermione felt power emanating off the young man she now knew had to be Amhar Potter; power the likes of which she'd not felt since Harry nearly ascended years ago. The young man was far more than a mere human, and the realization did not terrify her, it sickened her. This was her adopted daughter; the sister of the heir to their throne. This was her husband's son.

"Oh Cathy," she whispered with tears in her eyes. "You don't know what you've done."

"I know exactly what I've done!" Cathy snarled, her feral smile turning into a hungry, angry grin. "I've given the galaxy a choice! You forced your husband on us all. The chosen of the Ancients. If you were so secure in your faith in the Ancients, you wouldn't need to force people to follow you. My son is also a Chosen One. He is chosen of the Ori, and we walk the path of Origin. And now the people will choose which path they wish to walk."

"Know this, Aunty," Amhar spoke for the first time. Despite his obvious youth, his voice sounded alarmingly deep and smooth, as if he were a trained singer. His gaze made Hermione shudder because it was so very much like his father's. "Those who do not walk the path of Origin must be destroyed. The people of Magtireth have chosen wisely. I give you the same chance. Choose Origin and join us, or be destroyed."

Upon this threat, the Rangers around the room reacted instantly. Blasters were pulled and the soldiers were fully prepared to fire. Amhar raised his hands and the Force screamed; all around Hermione Rangers collapsed dead to the floor.

"What is happening here!" Montral shouted. His horror provided eloquent proof that he was not a part of this conspiracy. Unfortunately, he did not live long enough to do anything about it. Anir'Danu removed a small Khebbish blaster from within her robes and shot the governor at point blank range. She'd had it the entire time—this whole meeting was an ambush that Hermione never felt coming.

"Choose, Empress," Amhar Potter. "Walk the path of Origin, or be…"

The boy may have been as powerful as Harry, but he was still young. The Force lightning she struck he, Cathy and Anir'Danu with was the most powerful she'd ever generated. It was not just energy, but a kinetic blast as well that sent all three flying back with hurt cries.

Gerak fumbled for what she could only guess was a weapon within his robe, but Hermione's lightsaber removed his head before he could find it. She turned to apparate when she felt a blast of heat and what she could only ascribe as magic slam into her back.

The blow was more powerful than her own and sent her flying through the air until she slammed into the opposite wall. She stood on shaky legs and looked over her shoulder to where Amhar Potter ran toward her, his green eyes glowing with rage. Behind him, Cathy and the local Jaffa leader were still trying to pick themselves up.

It occurred to Hermione that, if not for her armor, she would be dead.

The boy raised his hands and lashed out not with Force lighting, but with blinding streaks of white power that, though visually similar, harnessed something that made the Force scream as if violated. Hermione slipped her kera'kesh on and summoned her most powerful shield.

It held, but she could feel that it would not hold on long. The boy harnessed as much brute power as his father did, and while Hermione could fight Harry in sparring, if he'd truly wanted to kill her, she knew he could. This boy wanted to kill her.

She apparated out from behind the shield and appeared right behind him, her lightsaber flashing toward his head. Her blade came to an abrupt halt against a blade of black fire that sprouted from a hilt he grabbed from his hip as fast as any Imperial Knight. He smiled at her over the blade before trying to punch her.

He moved with inhuman speed and power; Hermione moved just as fast, guided by the Force and over fifty years of training with a former Sith. As powerful as Amhar was, he was very young. She slapped his fist to one side, slammed a foot into the back of his knee and slammed the point of her saber into the middle of his back.

The blade scattered and the hilt grew hot in her hand—shielded naquedah body armor. She jumped away before he could recover enough to take advantage of her momentary distraction. "You're not the only one with armor, Auntie," he said.

Despite his grin, however, Hermione could tell the boy was shaken. He'd not expected any type of resistance. "You are powerful, Amhar," Hermione said as she studied him. "But we are too. It's not too late for you. You could come back to us. No matter how you were conceived, you are Harry's son."

"I am no son of that blasphemer," Amhar shouted, all semblance of control lost. "He had his chance and exiled my mother and me to a cesspool. Only the Ori showed us love or respect! We walk the path of Origin, and if you will not walk it with us, you…will…be…DESTROYED!"

The blast of fire was more powerful than anything short of Harry's fiendfyre, and like her lightning it came on the crest of kinetic energy beyond her ability to withstand. She harnessed her most powerful shield, closed her eyes, and then charmed her own body with a feather-weight charm. The blast shot her like bullet through the walls of the palace and into the open air of the planet.

She could feel blood flowing as the stone in her chest struggled to repair the damage to her tattered body. The runes in her armor flared sharply before failing completely, overwhelmed by the attack. She floated mid-air only because she still had the feather-weight charm, and it was because of her facing the blue sky that she saw a billow of flame in orbit. The formation of dagger-shaped Khebbish destroyers had fallen under attack by large, horse-shoe shaped craft that fired relatively slow beams of Ancient-style disruptor energy.

One of the destroyers did not shield in time and erupted in a huge plume that was what originally caught Hermione's eyes. The other two returned fire against the superior force, fighting valiantly with Ancient-equivalent weapons and shielding. While they were comparable technologically, in this case the five Ori ships overwhelmed the Khebbish task force by sheer force of numbers.

A surge of danger in the Force overcame Hermione's shock and mild concussion. Centering herself in the Force as the stone in her chest continued to heal her, she turned and looked down at the angry crowds of Jaffa below her. Many were firing traditional staff weapons at her, though missing because of the distance and the jostling of those around them. That would change shortly.

She disapparated and appeared a second later at the stargate, emerging in the middle of a pitched battle. The task force that accompanied her through the Stargate were falling before the overwhelming tide of the native Jaffa. Hermione raised her kara'kesh and spun around as she summoned a fire whip. The magical construct forced the attacking Jaffa back with terrified screams.

"Captain, dial Kalmah and retreat immediately!" she shouted.

"Yes, ma'am!" The ranger captain, an Eridu, was already doing just that. Hermione pushed more magic into the whip but could feel a greater threat approaching. Amhar was coming. He didn't know how to apparate yet, she suspected, but he was moving far faster than any normal human could move.

The gate boomed open and the rangers formed up around her. "Majesty, we must evacuate!" the captain shouted over the roar of fire and rage.

She pumped as much magic as she had left into the fire whip and connected it to the ground—it would sustain itself for a few minutes or until Amhar Potter overwhelmed it. With that last defense, she spun and ran through the gate with the tattered remnants of her guard coming right after.

The world of Magtireth was lost to the Empire; the Ori War had begun.


	52. Family

A/N: No review responses today, I'm afraid. With Hurricane Harvey knocking on my door I wasn't sure how much time I'd have before we lost power and wanted to get the chapter out. My family and I are in no danger other than a loss of power, which has been flickering since last night. And maybe our roof. My thoughts and prayers are with all those south of me. Harvey hit Rockport like a hammer.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Two: Family**

His Divine Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Daniel of Kheb, sat in the center of the three thrones that dominated the new House of Ministers. Just below him, in a second row of seats, Prime Minister Himilco of Byrsa oversaw the session with a professionalism that belied his simple origins.

The Byrsa man, one of the first to join Harry, was now in his sixties and had served in the Imperial Government in one capacity or another for over four decades. During that time, even while working, he pursued an education as an adult second to none and proved himself an able representative for his people and his world. His native pacifist sensibilities also helped rein in some of the hawks of the Eridu or the many, many Jaffa that served in the House of Ministers.

The House of Representatives was on their annual leave; Harry preferred the two houses not meet simultaneously except once per the four year fiscal cycle. While it greatly slowed down legislation that required both houses, that meant the Thrones had more time to shape the legislation before it passed. If there was something Harry truly wanted, he could always call both houses into session.

"The honored Minister Chel'nak of Chulak has the floor," Himilco said.

Daniel tried to pay attention, but he knew the Jaffa was talking about taxes, and the Finance Subcommittee was already working on the issue the Minister wanted to bring up. The man just wanted a chance to get publicity for his constituents, and Daniel didn't fault him for it. The Jaffa representatives had to work in some ways harder than their human colleagues because of the tradition of violence that they came from. Jaffa demanded immediate results and gratification, just as their former masters did, and were prone to violence if they did not get it.

There was no such thing when it came to bureaucracy.

Around him, the high walls of the chamber glistened with murals of the founding of the Empire. From Harry's destruction of the Goa'uld Tilgath to the breaking of the Goa'uld fleet, the new Parliament building was a testimony to Empire.

The whole city which bustled around the Parliament building was itself less than five years old.

With the fall of the Goa'uld and the Treaties of Year 32 where the surviving First Primes of the dead Goa'uld formally surrendered and joined the Empire, the representatives of the many worlds that joined the Empire quickly outgrew the original chambers in Byrsa City.

The Akai'kheb ordered a new complex built two hundred miles south of Byrsa City. In a move that surprised many, he named the complex Lomenet.

"Kisher Lomet served as the first Prime Minister of the Empire, and through his tireless efforts helped create the institution this city aims to serve. What better way to remember his contributions than to ensure his name itself becomes synonymous with Parliament," the Emperor said during the initial ground-breaking ceremony.

It was a politically astute move, Daniel acknowledged, as many still in Parliament remembered Kisher Lomet with the increasingly exaggerated fondness only death could bring. That fondness was what made the leaders of the empire look on with tolerant smiles as Kisher's grandchildren burned through his considerable fortune as celebrities of nothing.

Still, calling the city Lomenet gave Parliament a sense of history that was vitally needed given the institution itself was in reality only a few decades old. It also gave the ministers and representatives a sense of separation and independence from the Imperial apparatus that dominated Byrsa. The tube system meant only twenty minutes of travel separated the two cities, and the transport system for VIPs was instantaneous, but the geographical span had great meaning politically.

Given the fact that there were over eight hundred and fifty representatives in the House of Representatives, Daniel suspected his Uncle was just as happy to have them out of Byrsa City as they were to be away. The Parliament of Kheb was a completely different entity after the Goa'uld war than it was before. The challenges the Thrones dealt with were just as different.

Daniel's mind wandered again, thinking of his own life. He had apartments for his family in the main palace, but as a Crown Prince he was also given his own palace which he had built on the coast. It had multiple transport pads for quick access to the Stargate, the Imperial Palace or Parliament, but more importantly it also had access to the sea. A small village grew up around his palace for the support staff, the guards on rotation there, and the infrastructure to support those residents. Such was the life of the Imperials—civilization followed wherever they went.

Still, it meant that the six kids by the two separate women who called him father were not raised in complete isolation. He was forty-nine years old. With the Force as his alley, he liked to think he was in better shape than most his age, but he was feeling his years more some days than others. His wife-consorts, Her Grace the Imperial Princess Norta and Her Grace, the Imperial Princess Samantha, were thirty-seven and thirty-nine respectively. In their fourteen years together, Norta delivered him three force-sensitive sons and a Force-sensitive daughter. Sam had given him two daughters, neither Force-sensitive, but both showing clear signs of their mother and father's intelligence.

He rarely had the time he wanted with his children, unfortunately. But at least they had the sea.

 _Why can't I pay attention?_ The thought suddenly brought a stillness to Daniel. He was not ordinarily so easily distracted. So why was he having such difficulty focusing today? For the past few days he'd not slept well and was having difficulty meditating. But rather than seek the root of the problem, Daniel just brushed it off as typical mid-life _ennui_.

He closed his eyes and reached intently for the peace that came with the Force. It was the first concerted effort he'd made in days; he felt the Force swirling all around, but it seemed wrong. Normally the Force felt to him almost like an ocean with constant tides. Now it felt almost like a fast-moving river—a river during a flood. It felt almost angry and destructive.

That's when he felt _rage_. He winced, unable to school his emotions as the sheer power of his uncle's rage swept through the Force. Something terrible had happened, but he could not specify what, precisely it was.

"Highness, are you well?"

Daniel blinked his eyes, for the briefest moment forgetting where he was. Himilco was looked up from his desk, while beside him one of his rangers knelt down in concern. "Do you require assistance, Highness?" the ranger asked.

Daniel tried to remember the ranger's name, and felt oddly saddened that he didn't know it. "Something has happened; I need to speak with the Akai'kheb."

He started to stand when abruptly the main doors and both side doors of the entrance burst open and fully armored and armed Rangers rushed into the room. The various ministers rose to their feet, shouting angrily, but the shouting came to an abrupt end when Harry Potter, the Emperor and Akai'Kheb, stepped into the room.

Even Daniel stared in alarm. The air around his uncle didn't just shimmer. Licks of flame flickered over his head and shoulders and his eyes actually carried a preternatural glow. Most importantly, though, was how strongly he projected his rage. It brought the entire chamber with its three hundred plus ministers to utter silence as the Emperor marched down the center isle toward the Thrones.

Daniel stood without hesitation. "Resume your station, say nothing," he whispered to his ranger. "The Emperor is in a murderous mood."

Himilco himself stood frozen, having seen Harry at his most violent, and said nothing as Daniel stepped aside to allow Harry access to his throne. "How can I help, Uncle?" he whispered.

Harry met his gaze squarely. "Your nephew has chosen the Enemy. He nearly killed Hermione, and Magtireth has fallen. Sit down, Daniel."

Daniel felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach and sank weakly down onto Hermione's throne while his uncle viewed the now silent, standing ministers. He looked twenty, if even that, and yet the power and rage he projected was eternal.

When he spoke, his voice filled every corner of the room with the power of either magic or the Force, or a combination of both. "When my family and I founded this empire forty years ago, one of the underlying principals both of the Empire itself and of we the Tripartite Throne was to defend this galaxy against an ancient and terrible Enemy. We realize since that time that many of you have come to view this enemy as the Goa'uld, or as a metaphorical reference only. It was not. The Enemy that the Ancients chose me to fight against is real."

Burning green eyes swept across the chamber, making each minister wince. Daniel, however, paid more attention to the Rangers. He could tell from their gazes that they were picking out pre-selected targets. What in the name of the Force was happening?

"Millions of years ago," Harry continued, "a great and powerful race began to spread out among the stars. They were so technologically advanced that they created a means of instantaneous travel between worlds. Today, we call their legacy Stargates. They themselves were known as Alterans, and as their civilization continued to advance and mature, they evolved and began to ascend to a higher state of being. They became, for all intents and purposes, gods.

"Even among the ascended, there was division, however," he said. "Most Ascended Alterans at that time, like their corporeal cousins who still lived and breathed among them, wished not to interfere in the affairs of the less advanced races. However, others discovered that they could gain power from the worship of their corporeal cousins. This led them to force more and more corporeal beings to worship them and increase their power.

"This group of ascended beings and their followers broke away from Alteran Society. They became known as the Ori. The Ori created a religion to support their way of existence—a religion that forced their followers to worship only them with the promise of Ascension, and actively sought to destroy any who opposed them. That promise was a lie. After all, the more Ascended Ori there are, the less power each Ori receives from the worship of their followers.

"The Ori and Alterans fought for millions of years, until both sides realized that reality itself would shatter if they continued. The Alterans fled their home galaxy, escaping their evil offspring. They built the gates and lived happily for millions more years before Ascending completely and leaving this plane in peace. But they still remembered the threat of the Ori, and because of that threat they created a champion to stand guard for this galaxy. They created me."

The air around Harry flared visible. "Five hours ago, on the world of Magtireth, formerly held by the Goa'uld System Lord Morrigan, Ori forces attacked and destroyed an Imperial fleet yard and a system fleet, killing almost two million imperial citizens. And the bastard champion of the Ori personally attacked and attempted to kill my wife, Empress Hermione."

Some of the Ministers, especially those from Eridu and its allied systems, shouted out "NO!" in alarm at the thought of their patron goddess coming to harm.

Harry raised his hands. "This Orici, as he's called, staged an ambush in the Gubernatorial Palace on Magtireth, killing Hermione's loyal Ranger guard. The Ori underestimated Hermione's power, though. She defeated him long enough to escape through the Stargate and her hurts have been healed by the power of her blood. The fact remains, however, that the Ori have struck at the Tripartite Thrones personally, and have already killed millions of our loyal soldiers. Our own Minister Gerak aided the Ori and personally led the Empress into the Ambush."

Suddenly Daniel understood. Rangers began firing stun beams into the floor of ministers, sweeping through to collect members of Gerak's Jaffa party. Many of the other ministers, despite their protests, realized this as well.

"It is my hope that not all Ministers who were part of Gerak's party were aware of his treason," Harry said. "The Empress Luna is personally investigating this breach in our government. Any who were simply misled will be released. Any who actively support the Ori will be tried for high treason and punished under Executive Summary Judgment."

Daniel watched beside his uncle as the Rangers quickly and efficiently executed their orders by carrying out nearly sixty stunned Jaffa. When they left the room, Harry nodded to himself. "The Empire is now in a state of War," he said firmly. "We ask that all able-bodied men and women of age not in essential professions to contact your local recruitment office. Each planet's population must receive basic defensive training in the event of an Ori incursion. Those of you who wish to join the main fight will be welcomed as honored soldiers of the Empire and as my brothers in arms."

Many of the Ministers applauded, despite having just watched their colleagues be culled. Harry wasn't done, though. "The Ori are not Goa'uld," he told the ministers. "They are Ascended beings of untold power. Just like the Ancients chose me, the Ori choose their own champion. And my wife nearly killed him despite being ambushed and surprised." The air around him flickered as the flame begin a deep shade of blue. "This war is why I am as I am," Harry said, his face now sharp with a terrible anticipation. "All the power I yield is to combat this one enemy. My companions are powerful because they needed to be. The Knights we have found and trained are our answer to this threat. We will be victorious!"

A loud cheer met the exclamation, led Daniel saw mostly by Jaffa and Eridu. Despite having their brethren culled, the remaining Jaffa had found the past twelve years of peace and politics a strain. They were grateful that their children the Mal Jaffa were forever free of the Goa'uld symbionts, but the Jaffa themselves were first and foremost fighters.

Harry just handed them the war to end all wars.

"Because of the demands this coming conflict will have on our time," Harry said when the applause and cheering abated, "I formally confirm our beloved Prince Daniel is to act in our stead on all domestic issues. Many of you have noticed his presence these past few years—this was not accidental. Prince Daniel has proven time and time again that he is an able administrator of the Empire, and he has our fullest faith."

"More information will come as it becomes available," Harry said. "In the meantime, know that the Ancients of Kheb smile down upon you all. Those who fight and die for truth and freedom will walk the halls of Kheb with honor and love. May Blessing be on all of you."

With that, the Emperor swept from the chamber just as dramatically as he arrived. When he was gone, Daniel stepped back to his position in front of the center throne. "My friends, given this news, I call a recess for the day. The Palace will be contacting each of your offices soon with more information and details. Thank you all."

With that, Daniel also escaped.

While Daniel did not have the magical ability of apparation, he did have access to Alteran beaming technology, and found himself striding through the halls of the palace in Byrsa less than ten minutes after dismissing parliament in Lomenet.

He entered the royal apartments with a nod to the squad of rangers on guard duty and found one of the handful of Imperial Knights already there. Mione Montrose at twenty-four was an interesting mix of her parents—she had her mother's muscular frame and darker skin but her father's features, making her attractive in a startling way.

"Highness," she said with a quick nod when she saw him. With a start, Daniel realized she was actually standing guard.

"How bad is it, Mione?"

"Her armor was destroyed, Daniel," the younger woman said. She sounded at once awed and horrified.

He nodded and continued on through the various sitting and receiving rooms until he reached the sanctity of Hermione's actual suite. Somehow, it didn't surprise him to see Mione's little sister Celeste and Jeneu Indich, one of Daniel's own Force students, standing guard on either side of the door.

"Prince Daniel," Celeste said. She was the opposite of her sister, with her father's paler complexion and her mother's strong chin and cheekbones. "You can go in."

With a nod to the two young knights he stepped through. The feeling of powerful protective wards washed over his skin leaving an odd tingling sensation. Within the room he saw old familiar figures—Ishta and Teal'c in a corner of Hermione's personal dressing room speaking intently with Secretary of Defense Tel'gat Montrose.

Opposite them Bra'tac sat on a cushioned bench, looking haggard and tired. Gerak, Daniel knew, was a man Bra'tac had deeply respected. They all greeted him with a nod, which he returned before knocking on the door to Hermione's bedchamber.

The door opened and Luna looked up at him. The normally smiling empress did not smile, but she did gently hug him. "Come in," she said.

He stepped into a room that was an odd mix of wealth and practicality. Hermione loved books, and so her room was lined with beautifully crafted wood bookshelves that bulged with texts, most of which were salvaged from Earth, Tollana and Hebridan. There were pictures on the walls, many of which featured a young Daniel and Cathy. Being his first time in the room, he was surprised to see a picture of his entire family from before their deaths. He stared in surprise at the image of his parents beaming around their four children. With a start of guilt Daniel realized he'd not thought of his deceased younger siblings Michael and Karen in years.

The rest of the room, however, had painted plaster walls but little else. The only real extravagance was a bay window made of shielded transparisteel that held a seating nook overlooking a breath-taking swath of the Imperial gardens and the mountains in the distance.

He saw immediately that Hermione was lying in her large, four-poster bed. Slung over the footboard, as if forgotten, he saw her body armor. The heavily enchanted piece of naquedah was strong enough to survive a laser cannon blast. Now, it was cracked and inert, utterly spent by whatever threats she faced.

"Hello, Daniel," she said with a tired smile.

He came and gave her a hug. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," she assured him. "It will be a bother to enchant new armor, but I'm thankful for it. Your nephew is bloody powerful."

Daniel felt as if he were punched in the gut again. "Cathy…?"

"Is a very angry and disturbed young woman," Hermione said. Her voice cracked a little. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I'm so sorry. We thought we were doing the right thing by exiling them, but we just made it worse. We gave them the motivation they needed to join the Enemy."

"No, it's my fault," Daniel said. "Force and stars above, I'm the one who begged you to spare her and the baby. And now look at what she's done."

"The Ori were always going to have their champion," Luna said as she stepped to the far side of Hermione's bed. "If not Amhar, then they would fashion another. I suspect it was not entirely of Cathy's volition that she raped Harry after he fought Anubis. I think she was being guided and manipulated in the same way Harry and we were guided and manipulated by the Ancients."

The door opened and Harry surged in. Tel'gat, Ishta and Teal'c followed on his heels. "Better?" he asked his first wife.

"Exhausted, but whole," Hermione said.

"I'll make your new armor," he said without hesitation. He stopped at the foot of her bed with Tel'gat a step behind. "We just received word of ten simultaneous Ori incursions. Tel'gat?"

"So far they've attacked with one hundred destroyer-class ships," the Secretary of Defense said after consulting her datapad. Being Mal'Jaffa, she would not retain her youth for centuries like Teal'c or Ishta, but she carried her years far better than a normal human did. "In our encounters our most advanced destroyers have held up fairly well; the incursions were successful because of surprise. The problem we're encountering is on the ground. They're throwing unbelievable numbers of soldiers at us, and the soldiers are fanatics on par with the most loyal Jaffa. More importantly, they have a lot of Jaffa support among conquered worlds and…well, the early reports called them priests. Intelligence reports state they call themselves Priors. They have power similar to yours, and on two worlds used that power to break through defensive lines."

Harry nodded, frowning intently. "Luna?"

"Half of Gerak's supporters support the Ori. There is an Ori presence on Dakara."

Both Teal'c and Ishta hissed angrily. Bra'tac, the last to enter the room, sighed loudly. "My friends, leave Dakara to me. I will speak with them, if you please."

Harry met the far older Jaffa's gaze before nodding. "Be careful, Bra'tac. These Priors are a threat. I'm going to send Mione with you."

"The daughter of Tel'gat will be most welcome," Bra'tac said with a nod. "Let them see a former First Prime as a link to their past, and a Mal Jaffa Imperial knight as a promise of their future. I will return."

He turned and left just as quickly as he came, having assigned himself a task even Daniel admitted was important. If Dakara turned, that would be a blow to many Jaffa. "So, what next?"

"Recruitment and wartime production quotas," Harry said. "Tel'gat, put out the orders to all Imperial contractors. We take first priority on everything. Daniel, hit the Finance Committee hard. We're going to need to start raiding the surplus funds and start issuing war bonds."

"I'll start recruitment efforts as well," Tel'gat said.

"Dear, have your husband swing by my office tonight," Luna said as the SecDef began to leave. "Unfortunately we're going to have to be aggressive with internal security."

Tel'gat's eyes widened in concern but she only nodded. "Of course, Majesty. I'll have him come by at five past."

"Thank you all, we'll be contacting everyone about their roles shortly," Harry said. "I would like a few minutes with my family if I may."

Everyone left at that request—except Daniel. "Well?" Harry demanded.

Hermione sighed and held her hands together so tightly her knuckles turned white. "He had all of your power, Harry. Magic and the Force. He didn't know the refined magical techniques we learned, but the potential is there. It will not shock me if he is apparating now that he saw me do it. He's tall, physically powerful, but still very young. I almost had him, but he wore armor not so dissimilar to mine and it blocked my lightsaber. If I'd aimed higher, I'd have killed him."

"He's the figurehead, he's not the Enemy itself," Harry said. "Even if we kill him, the Enemy remains. We're going to have to destroy their military forces first, find their incursion point and destroy it, and only then can we finish him off." He turned to study Daniel intently. "You do understand we can't let them live, don't you?"

They were talking about his only surviving blood family. Unable to help himself, Daniel turned and stared at the old picture of himself, his parents and siblings. "She made her choice," he heard himself said. "It's always been her choice. But what you're talking about…you're talking about a long-term shooting war."

"That's the way it was always going to be," Harry said. Daniel tried not to shudder at the look of anticipation in the Emperor's face. "This war is why I was created."


	53. A Knight of the Empire

A/N: Chap 53 Review Responses in my forums. And now...it's been a while since we heard from Bra'tac. Let's see what he's up to.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Three: A Knight of the Empire**

"Master Bra'tac, are you well?"

Mione Andona Montrose studied the ancient Jaffa with open concern as the two walked toward the gate. For this trip, Bra'tac wore his old Jaffa armor and cloak, and walked with a staff weapon in one hand and a fold of his cloak in the other. His metal headpiece gleamed under the lights of the staging dome that protected the stargate. They were standing by in a priority queue as a column of soldiers and armored vehicles moved through the gate to reinforce a position already under attack by the Ori.

"A passing weakness of spirit, child. It is nothing."

In a very real sense of the word, Bra'tac was Mione's great grandfather. In the absence of her own parents, her mother Tel'gat viewed Ishta and her husband Teal'c as her surrogate parents. And Teal'c to this day viewed Bra'tac as a father-figure. The bonds they shared were of a family, even if they were not blood. She knew that Bra'tac, like most Jaffa, was a terse man. The Jaffa were not prone to talking about their feelings like a Hebrides or Byrsa native. But the few words he spoke were revealing enough—Bra'tac grieved not just the loss of Gerak, but for the man's betrayal.

Pity would not be appreciated, she knew. Instead, she merely nodded. "A weakness I share. I was afraid when I saw the Empress hurt as she was, and I grieved that it was Prince Daniel's sister who aided the Orici."

Bra'tac bobbed his head. "The Lady Hermione is strong. I remember the first time I saw her, many decades ago. My former master Apophis's queen selected her as a host. This fear you speak of—I felt it when I heard Amaunet screaming from Hermione's mouth. I remember Lady Luna's blood on my hands—Apophis ordered me to kill her, and I did as instructed. That very night, the Lady Luna forgave my stabbing her. They called me wise. But were I truly wise, surely I would have seen…" His words faded into silence.

Mione took the man's hand, her fingers lacing through his above the line of her vambraces. "Master Bra'tac," she said softly. "His duplicity fooled even the Empress, who is guided by the Force. It must have been the Ori's influence that shrouded Gerak's duplicity. You are among the wisest men I've ever known. So you should know that one can grieve the loss of a friend without blaming yourself for their acts. Gerak chose the enemy and hid his actions. There is nothing to do now but grieve the man you once knew, and try to save that which he tried to destroy."

With his other hand, the old Jaffa patted hers while nodding firmly and gazing out across the dome with rheumy eyes. "Yes, child. Yes, you are right. What does an old man know about wisdom that a child like yourself cannot also know? You are right."

The armored vehicles continued rolling through the gate, their shields off and their laser cannons secured for the passage. Between the wheeled vehicles came rows of soldiers weighed down by their field packs and weapons. The lighting of the vast dome overhead made it look almost as if they were out in the day, even though in fact it was approaching midnight. Many of the soldiers were Jaffa or Eridu.

Finally the column finished its passage and the gate shut down. Almost immediately another unit began assembling with more ground vehicles and several small one-man airships for close air support. However, Mione and Bra'tac were next. The gate began dialing for Dakara as the two left the covered seats of the VIP section and walked toward the gate. They already passed through several layers of security.

Abruptly the dialing was interrupted. "Incoming wormhole, please stand by," a voice announced on loudspeakers mounted on the customs station building on the far side of the gate from them. Moments after the incoming gate established itself, something flashed out of the gate and impacted a combination of shields and the Tripartite's personal wards ten feet from the gate.

"Enemy fire, enemy fire!" The voice over the speaker was screaming in panicked alarm.

The beam of energy burned with a brilliant white light and took up almost half the circumference of the gate itself, it was so thick. Bra'tac moved as if to shield Mione while the assembled military unit desperately tried scrambling out of the way. The air ten feet from the gate shimmered as a ZPM-powered Ancient shield and a cascade of magical wards fought to contain the energy. The roar of the beam made Mione's ears ache while every hair on body stood on end from the ionization of the atmosphere.

Suddenly the Akai'kheb was there, popping out of nowhere almost directly in front of the beam. Moments later, a second object appeared and Mione felt her eyes bulge as she saw a Tollan phased torpedo, but with a very large naquedah-infused warhead. The soldiers behind him stopped mid-run and stared at what was in many regards the most powerful single weapon the Empire possessed.

Harry simply stood staring at the beam, his lips moving. Mione knew he was talking to the gate control room, but she couldn't hear what he said.

Almost five minutes after the attack started, the beam ended and abruptly the gate shut down. It began dialing again instantly, doing so much faster than Mione had ever seen. Behind the Akai'kheb, the warhead went live with an ominous hum and then phased out of sight. The very second the plume of the out-going wormhole settled, the missile roared through the event horizon. A second later the wormhole collapsed and the gate immediately began dialing again.

In the stunned silence that followed, Harry nodded to Mione and Bra'tac. "Go through quick, they may try attacking from a different gate."

The gate dialed for Dakara, and this time Mione and her escort wasted no time going through. The moment they emerged from the gate, they were met by a squad of Jaffa in full armor with staff weapons pointed at them. Standing at their lead was a woman Mione recognized. "Ka'lel?"

Ka'lel was one of the survivors of the Hak'tyl, but was not herself Mal'Jaffa. In fact, she was one of the last of the Hak'tyl to receive a symbiote before the Mal Jaffa retrovirus was perfected by the Hebridans. She wore the robes of the Dakara Council, the planetary governing body and a major voice among all Jaffa politics.

"We heard the Emperor slaughtered Gerak and all of his supporters," Kal'lel said. "We expected no less. I will admit I'm surprised the Emperor sent only you."

"He sent only this child you know," Bra'tac said. "I came of my own will, and the Akai'kheb agreed. Jaffa, _kree!"_

The whip-snap command of a century-plus old First Prime broke through the inherent distrust and the squad of Jaffa warriors lowered their staff weapons. Only then did Bra'tac walk down the ramp with Mione a step behind on his right. "The Akai'kheb respects and needs the Jaffa. His actions were not that of a tyrant, but of a good man betrayed. I will speak more of it to the Council as is my right as Jaffa."

"And the Imperial lackey?" Ka'lel said with a nod to Mione.

Mione bit back an angry retort and tried to hide the fact that the statement hurt. Ka'lel and her mother were friends at one point, supposedly. "I am Mal'Jaff," she said instead. "My mother was your sister in arms. If we meant you violence, you would be dead already. In Bra'tac's words, he came as a reminder of a Jaffa's honorable past, while I am the future."

"Enough of this," Bra'tac snapped. "I will speak to the Council now."

"You'll not find them receptive."

"Nor will they find me complacent," Bra'tac returned. Without further word, he began to march determinedly toward the stark, arid mountain in which the Dakara Council met. Mione, being her first time on the arid planet, found herself studying the massive image of a Goa'uld ruler carved into the mountain.

"The Temple of Dakara," Bra'tac said, noticing her look. "It is where the Goa'uld first enslaved the Jaffa. It is where we were created, and first implanted."

"Just like Hebridan was where we were freed," Mione said.

She noticed some of the Jaffa warriors around them stiffen at her statement. However, in the wake of the in dominatable Bra'tac, Ka'lel made no effort to stop them. Instead she and the warriors accompanying him formed up to either side. She even lengthened her stride to overtake him, and thus when she turned away from the long, colonnaded building that ran along the edge of a ridge, Bra'tac hesitated.

"Do not think me so old as to forget where the council I helped form is located?" Bra'tac said.

Ka'lal stared at the old warrior with the hint of a knowing smirk, if a Jaffa could ever be said to smirk. "Much has changed, Bra'tac of Kalmah. The Council now meets in the Temple."

Mione did not have the perspective to understand why Bra'tac brought his hand to his chest as if in shock. "What sacrilege is that! No Jaffa has ever stepped foot in the temple!"

"Until now. If you wish to address the council, that is where you must do so."

Bra'tac placed his staff in the dirt. "So be it. Lead on."

The small courtyard that framed the entrance to the temple looked different than normal Goa'uld construction, which always swerved toward overwhelming ostentation. It was ancient, though, on a scale Mione had never seen before.

It was as they passed through low, heavy doors lined in ancient script that she felt her stomach clench. Though she could not read all of it, she recognized enough of the script to know they were not walking into a Goa'uld structure, but rather an Ancient one. Bra'tac too must have recognized it, though he gave no mention of it.

Within was a long, wide-open area with a low stone ceiling. A circular table with an empty center took up much of the room, but toward the back Mione could see the unmistakable form of an Ancient control panel, likely dating back millions of years.

The Force hummed with a hidden danger, though she could see the hostility from those in the room easily with her own eyes. The five council members seated at the table glared at the newcomers. Ka'lel herself stepped past them and resumed her seat.

"The lapdogs of the Emperor are not welcome here," a tall, harsh Jaffa in the middle declared.

"That is good, Se'tak," Bra'tac said. "If any arrive, I shall join you in fighting them. In the meantime, you shall hear my words and take heed."

"I don't need to heed the words of a traitor!" another councilor said.

"You already have, every time you speak!" Bra'tac roared the words, his eyes flashing in a rage Mione had never seen from the man.

Neither, it seemed had the council. The second speaker, half-way out of his seat, sank back again at the sheer power of Bra'tac's declaration.

Bra'tac stepped into the empty space in the center of the table, slowly looking from face to face. "I saw how you spoke down to my companion, Ka'lel. And yet your own sister Hak'tyl is her mother. Your own daughter is free from the scourge of the Goa'uld just like she is. You decry the Empire, but why do our children live free from the symbiotes, my friends, if not for them? We are free at last, and it was the Empire that gave us that freedom! It was by the Akai'kheb's hand personally that Dakara is ours! That this council exists and has say over this world!"

"We would have gained our freedom in time!" the councilor who insulted them at the beginning said.

"Is your tongue split, Yat'yir? For you speak the lies of serpent!"

The council member stood, his face flushed with rage.

Bra'tac didn't even deign to notice. "It was I personally who prepared for rebellion against our Goa'uld masters! It was myself, and Teal'c, and An'hur who joined the Akai'kheb and first fought against the Goa'uld. Where were you? Where were any of you? I will tell you. Save for Ka'lel, every one of you were still slaves to your masters. And Ka'lel herself was but a child facing death at the hands of Moloc when I accompanied the Akai'kheb and the Lady Hermione to save her! It was me who carried her off that world! Do you not remember, Ka'lal? Is your honor so far gone that you remember not who saved your very life?"

Ka'lel flushed as brightly as Yat'yir, but for different reasons.

"And yet that Empire you worship has killed the leader of this council!" Yat'yir argued. "Worse yet, we've learned that almost a third of Gerak's allies in Parliament have been murdered!"

"Because he was Shol'va, as were those who followed him so blindly!"

Another of the council rose to his feet. "You dare call a member of this council a traitor to the gods?"

"No, U'kin. I declared Gerak a traitor to his honor, and to the Tripartite throne which freed him from his bondage. He has broken faith with those who freed him and bowed his neck to dark gods who bring nothing but destruction."

"You speak of an Enemy and dark gods," U'kin said. "What name would you give this enemy?"

"They are called the Ori, and they are the Great Enemy the Akai'kheb spoke of when he first formed the Empire."

All five of the council members went still at the name. It did not take the Force to know that the council already knew what the Ori were called.

Bra'tac didn't miss it either. "I see," he finally said, his voice dripping with contempt. "This is what it means to be Jaffa today? Honorless cowards?"

"Bra'tac, the Ori did not come to us with violence," Se'tak said. Like all the others he wore the robes of the free Jaffa, though the emblem on his head was a simply black mark of Ba'al. He was a handsome man, but his tone spoke of barely concealed rage. "They came peaceably to speak, and in their discussions they proved they were allies of the Jaffa. Thanks to the Ori, the Jaffa Nation will never bow down to your Empire again. Only now, with the Ori, are we truly free. We have all voted on this matter. The decision is made."

"Is this true?" No longer did Bra'tac sound angry or on the verge of fighting. Instead, he simply stared at the councilors incredulously. "Has the Jaffa Nation voted to betray the Empire?"

Yat'yir, with his short stature and round face, spoke quickly. "Yes!"

Ka'lel, however, shook her head. "We did not! You know we did not, Se'tak. The vote was to hear the Ori ambassador in peace, and learn how the Ori could ensure the freedom of the Jaffa better than the Empire." She turned and glared at Yat'yir. "That was the only thing the council voted on.

The oldest of the councilors nodded. "That is correct."

"Very well, Maz'rai," Bra'tac said to the old, heavy-set man. "If that is what the council voted for, then we shall hear these words."

"We?" Yat'yir spat the word. "Who are you…"

"He is a founding member of this council, Yat'yir," Maz'rai said, cutting the younger Jaffa off quickly. "Whatever you think of his ties to the Empire, he is Jaffa, and has earned a right to sit at this table more than any of us."

"I agree," Ka'lel said. "If he can accept the vote of the council, he should be allowed his place on it."

Bra'tac turned to walk to one of the empty seats beside Ka'lel. "In this space, say nothing," he told Mione quietly.

She nodded and followed him in silence, taking up a position two feet behind him.

Se'tak remained standing from before, and evidently led the council in Gerak's absence. "Jaffa, bring in our guest."

Mione felt a sudden cold chill run up and down her spine. Only a lifetime of training kept her from igniting her lightsaber. A Jaffa warrior led a single figure through the door and into the sacred space of the Jaffa. The man wore a simple, sleeveless gray robe over a white blouse. His head was the color of bone without a trace of hair, and his eyes were clouded over as if with cataracts. In one hand he clutched a leather-bound book, while in the other he held a dark wooden staff topped by a brilliant white crystal the size of a large man's fist.

"Greeting and blessings from the Ori," the creature said. His voice was deep, rich and perfectly modulated to reach every ear and penetrate every mind. He thrummed with a hot, violent power that clashed with the Force so hard it made Mione nauseous. He pulled her own power in, trying to avoid the Prior's presence as much as she could.

"Greeting," Se'tak said, his voice changing from angry and confrontational with Bra'tac to sycophantic with this newcomer, who could only be one of the Priors of the Ori.

"And to you," the Prior said. "Have you read the Book of Origin?"

"I have," Se'tak said. "I found much wisdom in it, wisdom that I do not find in the teachings of the Tripartite."

"And well that is, since the words of heretics and blasphemers carry no wisdom, only damnation."

"The Jaffa people are mighty warriors, it was how the false gods created us," Se'tak continued. "For us to convince our people, we need to show them more than just a book with wisdom. We must show them might. We must show them that the Empire will not attack and enslave our people just as the Goa'uld did. In our last discussion, when you showed us how to unlock this temple, you mentioned such a means. Can you tell us more?"

"The Ori are all-seeing. The Ori are all-knowing. The Ori were before time, and will remain when all is dust. The Ori bore witness to their fallen kin on this world, eons before your ancestors could speak or walk. The Ori bore witness to a plague which the Fallen brought upon themselves and all the worlds of the galaxy, and thus bore witness to the last days of their Fallen kin in this galaxy. They built a great machine on this very ground to reseed the galaxy they themselves decimated in their folly. The machine still stands as you see. Within this machine lies the key to your salvation. For that which can create can also destroy."

"You're saying…the ancient temple is a weapon? Of the Ancients?"

"The worms that flailed blindingly about always sought the tools of the Fallen to raise themselves up," the Prior said. "Why then is it a surprise that the Goa'uld would come to this place? In the time of the Fallen this world was a paradise, and the Worms who enslaved you found many treasures to lift themselves higher unto the heavens. And yet, the truth eludes he who does not seek it with both eyes. The Worms sought only what they searched for, and did not see the truth before them, else all who opposed them would be no more. Such is the power you possess."

Mione fought to keep her mouth shut. What he was describing was a weapon of galactic-level mass destruction. If the Ancients used it to reseed the entire galaxy, then somehow it would have been keyed through the gate system. If the tool could be weaponized, the Jaffa could wipe out all life in the galaxy. They would wipe out the entire Empire in the blink of an eye.

The other councilors realized that as well. Se'tak sank back into his seat. "Such power."

"Indeed," Bra'tac said. Somehow he managed to keep his voice neutral. "Tell us, what would the Ori have us do with this power?"

"The Ori would have you walk the Path or Origin, so that you may be blessed with enlightenment. Blessed are the true believers, for only they shall walk the Path, and they shall be welcomed unto the realm of the Ori and made as one with Them. But those who reject the Path to enlightenment must be destroyed."

Bra'tac nodded thoughtfully as he stroked his pointed, gray beard. "So you would have us use this weapon against the enemies of the Ori?"

"Verily. With the strength of your will, they call upon you to prevail against the corruption of all unbelievers."

Mione noted that both Ka'lel and Maz'rai shared a look with another of their members, Cha'ra, one of the Jaffa who survived Moloc's service, only to accept the Akai'kheb's mercy extended to Tilgath's men.

"I have heard tell of a powerful savior among the Ori," Bra'tac said. "The Jaffa nation responds to strength. Can you tell me of this champion of the Ori?"

"You speak of the Orici, _Ex uno disce omnes._ From one, all will learn. In this vast expanse, that is sheltered by evil and led astray, he is the beacon of light in the darkness, to the warriors of the Ori, and to all who follow the true Path to salvation. With the wisdom of the ages, he will lead us to glorious victory over any and all unbelievers. And it is he who would have you use the weapon of the Fallen to undo their terrible work."

Again Bra'tac nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, that would be him. He was at Magtirith, was he not?"

"So he was."

"Tell me, Prior of the Ori, how many Jaffa did he kill there?"

"What are you on about, old man?" Yat'yir snapped.

"It is a reasonable question," Bra'tac said, betraying none of the indignant anger he showed previously. Now he sounded calm, as if addressing the Parliamentary subcommittee on defense, than the High Council of the Jaffa Nation. "By Imperial treaty, this council speaks for all true Jaffa, do we not? Which means all Jaffa are our responsibility. And this morning, the Ori attacked the Magtirith shipyards and the defense fleet there. So tell me, you who see all, how many Jaffa did you kill this morning?"

"You seek truth in numbers, but numbers hold only fact. Truth may only be found by embracing the Path of Origin and heeding the Will of the Ori."

"Perhaps." Mione found herself fighting back a grin at how utterly calm and reasonable the elder Jaffa suddenly sounded. "It so happens that I _do_ know the number of Jaffa killed this morning. After all, I had a hand in training many of them. They made up a quarter of the Imperial garrison there—over two hundred thousand men and women of the Jaffa nation, all killed in a surprise attack without warning, nor chance to surrender. Just as the Vice Empress Hermione was attacked by your Orici without warning, led into a trap by this council's own Gerak, where your Orici attempted to murder her. He failed, by the way."

U'kin, another of the noriginal council members, paled at this news. "The Orici attacked the Vice Empress? And failed?"

"From the smallest seed of doubt springs forth the mighty poisonous tree of evil." The Prior had maintained a a beatific smile on his face until that last statement. "Beware your thoughts, lest they sway you from the Path."

"Indeed," Bre'tac. "This Orici, I would learn more of him. Surely the Ori did not shape him from the air. Was he born of a human mother?"

"He was," the Ori intoned.

"This much I agree is truth," Bre'tac said. "In fact, his given name is Amhar. For those of you who do not know, he is the son of Catherine Jackson, sister of Crown Prince Daniel of Kheb."

"Blasphemy!" Yat'yit shouted.

"I have yet to reach the true blasphemy, serpent tongue, though it comes nigh. For your blessed Orici is _mazmer!_ "

Ka'lel actually sucked in her breath in shock, while Se'tak rose to his feet. "What are you talking about?"

"It is a tale not spoken off, for the shame it brings to the Imperial family," Bre'tac said. He stood and walked around the table behind the other councilors, facing the Prior. "Some of you were there when the Akai'kheb fought the fallen demon Anubis. They fought like gods in open space, wielding powers the likes of which we'd never seen before or since. Though he was victorious, the Akai'kheb was sorely tested and terribly wounded.

"After he was found and brought to seek healing, the sister of Prince Daniel stole into his chambers and stole his seed while he slept! The child was granted without his consent. The Orici bears the powers he does because they were _stolen_ from the Akai'kheb." Bre'tac spat at the granite-faced prior. "He is no light in the galaxy. He's an overpowered bastard of the rightful emperor, using the lies of fallen gods to usurp the throne!"

"Is this true?" Ka'lel demanded of the Prior. "Is this Orici of yours the son of the Akai'kheb?"

"The Orici is the son of the Ori, born to light the wave in a galaxy shrouded by darkness," the Prior said. "He is the flame that shall burn away the chaff so that only the seed of goodness can grow."

Mione quietly removed her lightsaber when the Prior's staff took on a fell white gleam.

"Those who do not accept the Path of Origin must be destroyed. Choose wisely."

"What choice is there?" Bra'tac. "Omit your precious book, and your words are no different than what the Goa'uld said. You do not promise us freedom! You promise slavery with new masters! This council voted to hear your words, and they have been heard. So I call on the council to vote. Do you betray the man who gave us freedom, and ensured our children would never again be subject to the whim of the Goa'uld to live? Or do we bow our necks to yet another false god! Let us vote!"

The white grew stronger. Mione felt a terrible pressure against her mind, and realized what the Prior was doing. Without lighting her blade, she moved to stand in front of the messenger of the Ori, meeting his cloudy white eyes with her own dark irises.

"What are you doing, child?" Bra'tac asked.

"He's using his power to try and sway your minds," Mione said. "Can't you feel it? Like a hand grabbing the back of your head and squeezing? I'm blocking him."

"By the Ancient's light," U'kin whispered. "I do feel it, but only now that it has stopped. Is this your truth, Prior? A true compulsion to ensure now doubt or resistance?"

The Prior ignored them as he stared at Mione. "You are touched by the Fallen demons," he finally said. "More than any words spoken in this place, you are a living blasphemy." The light of the staff flared. "In the name of the Ori, I smite you down!"

He swung the staff over his head in a mighty blow. The single Jaffa warrior in the corner of the room leveled his staff weapon and fired, only for the orange bolt to deflect off a personal blue shield that surrounded the Prior.

Mione lit her lightsaber, expecting it to slice easily through the staff. Instead, the power-enhanced wood hit her blade with a loud, grating crackle that surprised the Prior as much as it surprised her. He jumped away awkwardly before swinging his staff not at her like a club, but light a sling. She had only a moment to brace herself in the Force before an unbelievable kinetic energy slammed into her and threw her backward over the table. If not for the Force, she had no doubt the blow would have killed her instantly.

The Prior's eyes widened, openly showing surprise, when she not only regained her feet but struck back with her own Force-blow that sent him stumbling backward. She somersaulted over the table and charged forward. The Force guided her blows with a strength and fury she'd never known, as if the energy of life itself was infuriated by this creature.

He responded with fire. The column of it shocked her, but she surrendered herself to the Force wholly and spun away, capturing the fiery column with her own power and redirecting it back toward the stunned Prior. She followed the fire with her lightsaber, which the Prior was barely able to block.

Her kick to his knee made him stumble; her blast of Force energy sent him flying back against the ancient black stone of the temple, and her Force-sped roll and thrust sent the point of her lightsaber directly into the man's heart.

The Prior gaped. "Blasphemy," he gasped. "All…will…be…destroyed!"

With a startled yelp, Mione jumped back when the Prior burst into a nearly white-hot fire that consumed him so fast he might as well have been vaporized by a staff canon. "Well struck, Tel'gat's daughter!" Ka'lel called.

Mione might have basked in the praise, if it weren't for the lingering sense of terrible danger. "We need to leave!" she said. "Bra'tac, the danger remains!"

"But the Prior is dead," Se'kat said.

"And a weapon that by his own words represents a threat to the Ori remains," Bre'tac said. "I see now why the Prior came here, and why he helped you open this temple. They wish this weapon for their own purposes, and if not for theirs, then no one else's."

As if in confirmation of those very words, a Jaffa warrior ran into the temple. "Councilors, two unknown warships have broken our defensive line and approach!"

"How did two ships break through our line?" Se'tak demanded.

"Councilor, you misunderstand!" The Jaffa looked shaken. "They didn't break through the line, they destroyed it utterly, all ten ha'taks are destroyed. The ships approach quickly!"

"Councilors, we must evacuate to Kalmah!" Mione pointed toward the gate. "We must go now if the Jaffa Nation is to survive!"

They emerged from the temple into the plaza just as the first thick, white beam of destructive energy seared through the atmosphere to impact the worn, carved head of an ancient Goa'uld. The explosion was of such magnitude as to shatter the mountain top entirely and send clouds of debris flying everywhere.

Jaffa warriors screamed or shouted in alarm as ahead, another warrior dialed the gate. The council ran through the gate as the second beam struck the mountain's body, followed by a third. The ground under Mione's feet heaved and the plaza split before her eyes as whatever Ancient technology which powered the weapon began to fail. She paused long enough to see terrified Jaffa running toward the gate before she heard Bra'tac call for her.

The two of them stumbled into the isolation fields of Kalmah. She turned and watched expectantly for more Jaffa to stumble through, bust just seconds after she emerged, the wormhole flickered and then died.

"What happened?" Ka'lel was breathing hard as she wandered toward the gate. Around them, Imperial soldiers and Rangers were approaching to contain what definitely constituted a security breach.

"The plaza was cracking in half," Mione said softly. She met Ka'lel's pale-faced stare. "I think the Ori destroyed Dakara."


	54. A War In Heaven

A/N: Chap 53 review responses are in my forums like normal. As for this chapter...another good title for this one would be: Cathy Jackson learns a lesson.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Four: A War In Heaven**

She'd been dreaming of the day for fourteen years. For the twelve long, trudging years on the Nox world, it had been a distant and unobtainable goal. But when the Prior came and led them not just to another world, but to another galaxy entirely, she began to hope her dream would come true.

In the vast, mostly empty halls of the Ori ship, a craft easily on par with the most advanced Ancient-inspired Imperial heavy cruisers, she envisioned the look on Aunt Hermione and Aunt Luna's faces when they saw that she had risen to be a queen in her own right. She dreamed of the look on Uncle Harry's face when his own son ran him through with a blade of flame.

She dreamed of being able to look her brother in the face and say: "See? I _am better than you._ I was the one they should have chosen."

But then she met the Doci. The Teacher. The Voice of the Ori themselves on the world they choose as their mortal doorway in a galaxy so far away from the Milky Way the light would take a million years to reach them.

Catherine was never powerful in the Force. Power for Force users came not in sheer strength, but in sensitivity. A greater sensitivity to the Force allowed for greater utilization of the Force which led to greater power of the Force itself. This is why Daniel was always so much more powerful than she was—where she walked along the shore of the Force he swam in its depths in his own way as deeply as their adopted guardians.

In the presence of the Doci, though, she _felt_ the Force. She felt it screaming. This…this creature looked like a man. He wore stately robes with a high-backed metal collar that rose up almost like a crown behind his head, framing him with a script so like Ancient it might as well have been the same language.

Like the Prior his skin was bone-white, his eyes cloudy with a vision that pierced the mortal veils. His voice was deep and beautiful and reverberated in her gut. The power he projected, though, burned the edges of her perception. There was no soul within him. Even more than the Priors, all trace of whatever man he used to be was gone, completely subsumed by the Will of the Ori.

He wasn't the most frightening thing Catherine saw in Celestis, the Holy City of the Ori. No, he was nothing more than a voice for the Ori. It was the Ori themselves that terrified Catherine Jackson.

 _Was this what Harry saw when he visited Kheb_?

Within the huge palace, placed on a lone island set in a vest plan of salt water flats that a person could easily walk across at low tide, there was a chamber that extended beyond the physical boundaries of existence. It was a chamber of fire that went down further than Catherine could see, and rose so high the sky itself should have burned, had the chambers themselves not existed in their own reality. And within that fire were the overwhelming, hateful, monstrous entities that called themselves Ori.

The Doci led her son by the shoulder into that flame, and it was the last she saw of him for two whole years.

What she learned during those years was that, compared to the servants of the Ori, the Nox were regular party animals. She was supposed to be a queen! She was supposed to be showered in riches and acclaim for delivering their messiah to them.

Instead she spent four hours every day being preached to by Priors. They never physically punished her for disobedience, but she found herself locked in her small, featureless stone room for sometimes days. There was no television or com net interfaces or any entertainment at all, just a single copy of the Book of Origins, and a Concordance of "Sayings" that was as thick as the Oxford Unabridged Dictionary.

She read the thing eventually just out of sheer boredom.

Catherine Jackson was a scientist. More importantly, she carried a small share of Ancient learning within her mind. She _knew_ intellectually what the Ori were. She knew what the Ancients were. As much as she hated them for what they did to her…to Jack…she did not doubt for a moment that Harry had made true contact with ascended beings.

Reading the book as a skeptic was hard. It was filled with wonderful stories of the miracles of the Ori, but for every miracle to restore a man's faith or save his life, there were horrors and atrocities committed against unbelievers. The penalty for apostacy was death by fire. The penalty if a woman cheated on her husband was to be stoned to death.

Slavery was not permitted, but only because all humans were equally low before the might of the Ori, therefore one may not claim ownership over another for fear of their hubris bringing down the wrath of the Ori. Origin was a religion of death; a lie to trick believers into accepting the slavish drudgery of their existence for the false hope of something better after death; or the fear of something far worse.

Though she was the mother of their Messiah, if she strayed too far from the role allotted her, as the Virgin Mother of the Orici, she would be punished. Subtly, without leaving marks, but punished just the same.

What sustained her was her dream, of how Aunt Hermione, Aunt Luna and Uncle Harry would look when they saw her triumphant return at her son's side. Of being able to show her brother than _she_ was the important one, not him.

With that dream to warm her on her long, cold nights, she hid her resistance and skepticism. She learned the dozen and one catechisms of the Path of Origin so she could recite them in her sleep. She attended the prayer session three times daily with the quiet, cowed humans who lived at the palace and provided material administrative support to the various leaders around the world. As she prostrated herself on the floor along with all the other women, while the men knelt down in a separate grouping, she dreamed of showing her home galaxy that Catherine Jackson was a name worth remembering.

When she joined the other women in washing, or preparing meals, as all women were required to do, she smiled softly to herself as she imagined the feel of a lightsaber in her hand. None of the other women spoke to her—after all, she was the Virgin Mother of the Orici, chosen by the Ori themselves. They revered her, even as the Priors punished her for even the slightest indiscretion.

Days turned into weeks into months into years. She lost track of time, moving in a constant daze of chores and dreams until one morning the Priors summoned her and everyone else to the prayer chamber. A tall, muscular young man followed two Prior into the room, and behind him came the Doci himself. All the women prostrated themselves as required, while the men knelt.

Strong, powerful hands gripped her shoulders. "Mother."

She glanced up, and only then, staring inches away, did she realize it was her son she saw. He lifted her up, not guiding but with a gentle embrace of power that made the Force around her shy away in pain even as it warmed and cradled her.

"Amhar," she whispered, astonished to find that her handsome young son had turned into a man. He would have only been fourteen, but he stood with the stature of a man four times his age. His body rippled with couched power, and within the endless depths of his green eyes, she saw a spark of orange fire that just hinted at the origin of his powers.

"It's time, mother," he told her with a gentle, loving smile. "It's time to go home."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The ambush was perfectly planned. The Jaffa of Magtireth were so angry with the Empire that they swayed easily under Amhar's words, and responded instinctively to his power. Gerak, leader of the Free Jaffa Nation within the empire, proved even easier to sway. "No Jaffa should ever bow down to a mere human," the man said.

"And none shall, if you accept the Path of Origin," Amhar promised the man.

The ambush was perfectly planned, and perfectly executed. Aunt Hermione felt nothing with her vaunted Force, because through Amhar the Ori clouded the futures such that the Most Holy Vice Empress could not even sense the danger until it was too late.

The ambush was perfectly planned, and the moment of her dream had come true. She could feel it with almost sensual anticipation—the look of horror and rage. The expression of despair and betrayal that her aunt would wear promised to make the last two years of toil, and the twelve years of her imprisonment before all worth it.

The ambush was perfectly planned. Hermione stood and stared at her. And cried. "Oh Cathy," the woman Catherine Jackson always wanted to be said. "You don't know what you've done."

The lack of horror and rage infuriated Catherine. She felt betrayed by the Hermione's deep sadness. Cloaked in her anger, she attacked. "I know exactly what I've done! I've given the galaxy a choice! You forced your husband on us all. The chosen of the Ancients. If you were so secure in your faith in the Ancients, you wouldn't need to force people to follow you. My son is also a Chosen One. He is chosen of the Ori, and we walk the path of Origin. And now the people will choose which path they wish to walk."

 _My son is as important as your husband, you adulterous murdering whore!_

The ambush was perfectly planned. Amhar was vastly more powerful with the fires of the Ori than Hermione Potter. And yet, in the blink of an eye, she out-dueled him and would easily have killed him if not for his armor. His power still overcame her, but somehow she still managed to fleet. Hurt, yes, but still alive and free.

She'd managed to kill Gerak, their best lead to infiltrate and suborn the Jaffa, and escaped.

Amhar chased after her, while Catherine stood in the middle of the governor's mansion wiping at bitter, salty tears that she couldn't even understand.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"The Aschen Confederacy appreciates the opportunity to review your…Book of Origin, was it?"

The three representatives of the Aschen Confederacy looked and acted like tax attorneys. They were relatively short and thin, with uniformly dark hair and painfully plain features. They all wore variants of gray and white—slacks, shirts and jackets of admittedly finely made fabrics put together in the most unimaginative way possible.

Though Aschen Rube Number 2, the one in the middle, did the speaking, all three were essentially interchangeable.

When scouts reported back to Amhar the presence of an advanced confederation of worlds outside of Imperial control, one whose member worlds appeared to be peaceful and agrarian, Amhar did not waste a moment to initiate contact. He spearheaded the initial communications personally, fearing with some justification that the Priors might not be the best ambassadors.

The result was this meeting, which Cathy attended as a courtesy to see her son's political skills in action. Amhar was so sure the Aschen would join him.

Cathy knew the moment she saw them that they would not. She stood with a pair of her ever-present ladies in waiting, whose names she still didn't know, behind and to Amhar's left. To his right stood Ahrmin, his latest general.

"Indeed, the stories in it are a fascinating glimpse into your culture," Aschen Rube #2 continued. "We are also appreciative of the fact that you are contesting the Empire of Kheb. Fortunately, we have managed to avoid the Empire both socially and militarily. However, it does not appear that the Path of Origin is compatible with the strictly secular nature of Aschen society."

Amhar, resplendent in a cloth-of-gold tunic that left his muscular chest partially bare, with a circlet of platinum and diamond on his dark locks, looked at the three men with an increasingly blank expression. Cathy could feel is growing anger, though. He was so sure.

"When two societies meet," Amhar said, "change is inevitable."

"Indeed," Rube #2 said. "However, in reviewing your scripture, and more important in examining the actions of your forces on those worlds you've conquered, it appears all of the change is on the part of those you conquer. Are you willing to say here that the forces of the Ori would be willing to accept an atheistic, secular society into its area of influence?"

"We would welcome you," Amhar said. Though he looked like a man of twenty-five, in fact he hadn't even reached his fifteenth birthday yet. That youth showed in the pleading of his voice. "We would save you. Don't you understand? By walking the Path of Origin, your people could potentially live forever and be as gods!"

Rube #2 tilted his head. "You are young, Orici Amhar. And obviously well…versed, shall we say?...in the teachings of your faith. So it may be difficult for you to appreciate the fact that the Aschen have already achieved that status. I myself am over four hundred years old, and have the potential to exist for many thousands more if I choose. We are immortal, yet we do not need your gods. Nor do we aspire to be such ourselves. We wish to exist, and explore, and learn. The Aschen Confederacy will not interfere in the conflict between you and the Empire. But with all respect, neither will we join you."

Amhar's anger faltered in the face of confusion. "How can you achieve everlasting life without ascension?"

Rube #2 smiled. "The Aschen do not need to ascend, Orici Amhar. For we have transcended. And if you will excuse me, our time here is done."

The three stood as one. Amhar also rose to his feet, the air around him flickering with a sudden surge of anger. "Those who do not walk the path of Origin must be destroyed," he declared.

They met on an Aschen craft that hovered in a stately fashion over one of the many agricultural worlds of the Confederation. Overhead, three Ori destroyers orbited the world. It did not surprise Cathy, therefore, when a Prior and a squad of soldiers beamed into the chamber.

The Aschen rubes looked mildly surprised, but only in the sense that they were not expecting the company. None acted or felt particularly frightened.

"Aggressive," Rube #1 noted.

"Not surprising given the theistic nature of their death cult," Rube #3 said. "All religion is fundamentally flawed. Why would this one be different?"

"This is your last chance," Amhar said. "I beg of you to take the Ori into your hearts. Join me and walk the Path of Origin for the sake of all your people!"

Cathy could feel the power he laced his voice with. The Force thrummed from him as he attempted to influence their minds. He might as well have been talking to a cat.

"Psionic resonance," said Rube #1.

"Interesting." Rube #3 joined.

"Protocols?" Rube #2 asked.

"Agreed." "Agreed."

Because of her tenuous connection with the Force, she didn't sense the danger until the first soldier simply collapsed. Two more opposite the room fell, until the Prior slammed his staff into the floor. The crystal at its head flared white and flashed across the room.

"Psionic shielding," Rube #2 said. "Impressive."

Snarling in rage, Amhar blasted the round table where they met into shards. For the first time, the three Aschen stepped back, genuinely startled at the display. Rube #2 even let out a startled cry as Amhar summoned him into a neck-crunching grip. "Those who defy the Ori shall parish," he growled at the smaller man. "Tell me where Aschen Prime is."

Rube #3 answered for his colleague. "That would be rather irresponsible of us, don't you think?"

Cathy couldn't help but jump a little upon seeing her fourteen-year-old son snap a grown man's neck and toss him away like a rag doll. "Then you will die."

Rube #1 tilted his head, as if examining a curio. "That seemed the likely scenario given the primitive violence displayed in your theology. Your gods may be ascended beings, but the hatred and violence they engender is that of the most base and primitive nature."

Amhar yelled at them. The roar produced a wave of kinetic energy that struck each of the remaining Aschen like a speeding car. They didn't just fly away—they broke with a spray of blood as they slammed against the far walls of the conference room.

"First these blasted 'Imperial knights' counter my Priors, and now these arrogant fools think to ridicule the Ori?"

"They have spoken blasphemy most foul," the Prior intoned.

Cathy rolled her eyes but said nothing. No one would listen anyway.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The conflict with the Aschen was the closest Cathy ever came to combat. She stayed in her son's warship as he personally led the charge against the people that would dare call he and the Ori primitive.

If she had any faith that she would be listened to, she would point out to her son that the Aschen Confederacy held absolutely no strategic value against the Empire. The worlds were connected by Stargates in a small cluster of stars around an ancient, exhausted nebula.

She would point out that the Aschen were not a military power. They conquered worlds through more insidious means—with promises of technology to open the door, and biological weaponry to ensure it stayed open. She would point out that if the Aschen had truly achieved a transcendence, even if only technological—the achievement was worth preserving even if only for scientific inquiry.

She knew, however, that none would listen. So instead she spent the three months of the Aschen war seducing her son's general, Ahrmin. The man was her age—tall, strong and vital. He, like all soldiers of the Ori, was an absolute fanatic. More importantly, he struggled to actually look her in the face whenever they spoke. She knew she was heavier than she used to be, but the mirror told her she was still an attractive woman.

It had been a long fourteen years since she last knew the touch of a man.

Success came on multiple fronts when Amhar finally found Aschen Prime. He personally led soldiers and Priors down onto the world to punish the wicked, while he ordered their ships to continue to pound at the ecumenopolis that housed a billion organic Aschen, and two hundred trillion sentient beings uploaded from dead Aschen who occupied the planet-wide computer networks.

And while her son indulged his rage by engaging in homicidal genocide, she finally lured the skittish, frightened general to her bed. Officially it was to discuss what she knew of the Empire's defensive strongholds. But when she met him wearing nothing but a silken bathrobe in a room bare of even her servants, General Ahrmin knew very well what she truly wanted. His performance was simply divine.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

On the day after the Aschen Confederacy fell, Amhar walked into her quarters. The few servants she had sitting lazily about for her pleasure instantly prostrated themselves on the floor.

Amhar had that effect about him. The uniform he'd come to wear—that cloth-of-gold jerkin encrusted with jewels enough to buy a planet, the black heavy trousers and the platinum and diamond circlet—all gave him a commanding presence that his power and build reinforced ten-fold.

"Good morning, Amhar," she said with a pleased smile. General Ahrmin had performed as well during the encore as he had during his premier. "What can I do for you?"

"We've won," he said. He smiled at her, though the expression seemed off. "The Aschen Confederacy is no more. A tribute has been placed on the planet in your honor. I would like to show you."

 _At least it got her out of the blasted ship._

"Of course. Let me dress and I'll join you in the beaming room."

He gave her a curt nod, oddly formal for their interactions, and left.

She arrived at the beaming room flanked by her ladies in waiting. They beamed down to what had once been a world of astonishing beauty—composed of crystalline towers and wide open parks that stretched for miles. The whole planet looked like the most well-kept theme park in the galaxy. Until Amhar blew it up, of course.

"The tribute is only a little way," Amhar said. "Walk with me?"

She smiled and took his arm. He stiffened at first, but relaxed. "How long has it been since we walked, just you and I? Do you remember the little trail we broke, in our old camp?"

He stared into the distance a moment before the corner of his mouth crooked. "I suppose I do. It feels like it was so long ago."

"It's only been two and a half years, Amhar."

"A lifetime, Mother." They walked on in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "We've lost Satoris. I've come to regret this campaign—the Aschen was an affront to the Ori, yes, but they were not strategically relevant. It was a distraction from the real threat. I prayed long and hard for guidance, and the Ori answered. We must destroy these 'Imperial' knights who can challenge the Priors."

"I've seen surveillance footage," Cathy admitted. "The knights are trained in the Force, either by your Uncle Daniel or the Emperor himself. They can sense Priors unless the Prior's intentionally cloak their presence. Still, I agree they should be destroyed. The easiest means to do so is to assassinate them."

"But how?" Amhar asked. He looked at his mother curiously. "They're always embedded in the middle of Imperial forces."

"True, but the best assassins can strike anywhere. The System Lords are dead, but we both know not all Goa'uld have perished. There were Goa'uld who were trained to do one thing and one thing only—assassination. Send word out through your Jaffa followers that you require the services of the Ashrak—all of them. Tell them that those that respond and succeed will be granted asylum in Ori space."

Amhar sneered. "The Goa'uld are worms. They would never accept the Path to Enlightenment."

"Even worms can kill, Amhar. The best way to win a war against a serpent is to cut its head off before it strikes. The Ashrak can do that."

Amhar regarded her with that oddly quickening calm that made him sometimes seem older than his handful of years. "You're very wise, mother. I can see why the Ori chose you. It shames me that I've not spoke to you before. That I left you wanting and alone. I won't do that again."

They turned a sharp corner of a shattered building and entered the foot of what looked like a kilometer-long plaza. Cathy stumbled when she saw the bodies, tens of thousands of them, impaled on stakes. Some still moved, reaching weakly for any relief.

Closest to her, though, was not an Aschen. Rather, she found herself staring into the blood-shot eyes of Ahrmin, who was held aloft directly over a stake by the power of one of the Priors. "Amhar, what…?"

"I blame myself, Mother," the young messiah said. "I neglected my duty to you. And in your loneliness, you let a valued servant defile you. If you were any other woman, it would be you there. But you are my mother. You are the holy mother of the Orici, and you cannot be punished for any crime. And so others will bear your punishment for you."

The two ladies in waiting, whose name Kathy still didn't even know, screamed as another Prior lifted his staff and levitated their squirming, terrified bodies over two empty stakes set out to either side of Ahrmin.

"Amhar, please don't," Cathy whispered. "They've done nothing!"

"They allowed a man to touch the mother of the Orici," Amhar said. "They should have run to the nearest Prior so that the sin could be averted. They failed, and thus they must also be punished. It's for your own good, Mother. I can't have the womb which delivered me into this world defiled. This is the will of the Ori."

"NO!"

The Priors didn't drop Ahrmin and Cathy's two servants. They used their telekinetic power to shove the three bodies slowly down with a horrible, sickening _squelch_ deep onto the three ragged wooden stakes, taken from the cultivated woods nearby. The two girl's screams of agony lasted for almost two whole minutes. Even the rugged General Ahrmin screamed before the end.

Cathy spun away from her son and vomited up her breakfast.

She felt Amhar's hand lay gently on her back. "I hope you can understand, Mother. You are more than just a woman. You are a bride to the Ori, mother to the Orici. If you slip again, I promise I will forgive you, because I love you that much. But someone will be punished. I hope you can remember that. Now, let us return. I have some Ashrak to find."

This time it was Amhar who took her arm as they returned to the ship with only the Priors for company.


	55. Close Quarter Combat

A/N: Chap 54 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Five: Close Quarter Combat**

Juneau Indich, a mutt of the Empire who could claim a Mal-Jaffa mother and a Eridu father, laughed as he somersaulted over the pale Prior. The soulless creature's face never lost its composure—Priors never responded to taunts other than to scowl occasionally. However, his thrust of kinetic energy was an answer of itself.

The blow struck the young Imperial Knight in the chest and sent him sprawling arse-over-tea kettle, as his master Prince Daniel would say. He pulled heavily on the Force and came safely to his feet in time to spin away from a billow of white-hot fire from the Prior's staff.

Around them, Ori soldiers and Imperial marines engaged in the fiercest close-quarter quarter combat the twenty-day-long Garande campaign had seen. The lines of the two forces had been moving back and forth across the planet's primary inhabited continent while their respective navies continued to clash every few days for orbital dominance.

This was the second Prior dispatched to Garande—the first they managed to destroy using a heavy sonic cannon. Unfortunately, a second Ori offensive forced them to destroy the experimental weapon, which left Juneu fighting his first-ever duel with the second Prior to arrive.

Normally, when they entered a battlefield, Priors preached constantly about the Path of Origin and how those that joined them would find eternal peace and salvation. What the Priors didn't seem to realize was how firmly the religion of Kheb had established itself in the Empire. The Akai'kheb had proven himself a Chosen One of heaven so many times that there was no question in the minds of his followers.

For Jeaneu, he could feel the Akai'kheb's power ever time he stood in the man's presence. The Emperor didn't just radiate energy in the Force, he radiated a sense of power that approached that of the divine.

Though he was too young to have served during the final destruction of the Goa'uld under Anubis, he'd watched the plethora of records of the battle dozens of times. So had every other child in every school in the empire. The Priors could preach until they actually had red in their cheeks—the people of the Empire knew who their gods were.

The Priors might be able to kill Imperial soldiers (and did so with frightening efficiency), but they would never convert them. It was this, Juneu believed, that angered the Ori the most. They'd swept into the galaxy by the hundreds millions, bringing ships and soldiers almost beyond imagining, and seemed affronted when the galaxy did not immediately kneel down in subservience to be converted.

The Prior slashed down with his staff, wielding a kinetic energy so powerful Juneu knew he could never have survived it. He didn't try—he cartwheeled to the left and threw his saber in a horizontal line, moving so fast in turn his blade was in the air before the Prior had even finished his own slash.

The bone-white puppet of a man's eyes widened a moment in shock as the saber cut his mid-section clean through before returning obediently to Juneau's hand. The creature burst into flame and disappeared as all Prior did upon dying.

It was at that very moment something hit Juneau in the back so hard he flew forward ten feet and fell numbly into the dirt. It took a moment for the numbness to pass enough to weakly roll over and look up as a strange shimmer in the air formed over him.

"That should have killed you," an oddly duplicative voice said softly. Juneu, terrified and seriously injured, looked around desperately at the muddy battlefield all around. The worst of the fighting had passed them by, leaving the field littered with churned mud, pools of blood, bodies and Imperial medics. With the loss of the Prior, the Ori soldiers were being pushed back.

Except his attacker.

"Yeah, well, just lucky, I suppose," Juneu whispered weakly. He felt hot, iron-flavored blood in his mouth and found himself struggling to breathe.

"Well equipped, perhaps, but not lucky," came the reply. "Not today."

The shimmer moved. Juneu desperately called on the Force, but found it slow to respond to his critically injured body. Fortunately, he didn't have to. A burst of blaster bolts slammed into the shimmer, breaking whatever cloaking technology the assassin used and sending the now visible assailant sprawling into the mud.

Juneau tried to turn his head and saw his fellow knight, Jocat Cancal, running toward him with a blaster rifle in one hand and a green lightsaber in the other. She screamed and continued firing with each step, forcing the assassin to shield himself.

Without his cloak, Juneu could see a tall, well-built figure in a suit of full, dull-gray fitted body armor with an odd, fully enclosed helmet. He spun and revealed not a blaster, but a Goa'uld hara-kesh, a weapon similar to the kara-kesh but used exclusively by Ashrak assassins. The surveillance video of an Ashrak infiltrating Kalmah in the earliest days of the Empire was required watching for all Knights. Juneu tried to shout a warning, but Jocat saw and sensed the danger before he had a chance.

She surged forward in a burst of Force-speed and somersaulted over the kinetic energy blast. As fast as the Ashrak were, they could not force their hosts to go faster than an Imperial Knight. Juneu heard the creature cry in rage even as Jocat slashed her saber down, bisecting his head easily.

She rolled to her feet before rushing to Juneu. "Have I told you how sexy you are when you fight like that?" he muttered.

Like Juneu himself, Jocat was half Mal-Jaffa, half Eridu. She had sand-colored hair and an oval face with a deep tan that he knew from training ran head to toe. She was a year younger than he was at nineteen, and it was their young age that led the Thrones to pair them as partners, whereas the oldest knight, Mione, led solo commands.

"Shut up," Jocat said intensely. "By the Thrones, Juneu! I thought you were dead. It not for the armor the Empress gave you, you would be."

"Still pretty hurt," he noted.

"I think the shot may have broken your back," Jocat confirmed as she ran her hands gently over him, probing him with the Force. "We need to get you back to the Command Cruiser."

"How'd you know he was there?"

"Didn't you read your dispatches this morning?" She shook her head and clucked her tongue as if he were a naughty child. "The Empress Luna sent an intelligence report about the Ori reaching out to recruit the Ashrak. If not for that report, I would never have sensed the one who tried to kill me." She slapped the communicator around her wrist. " _Righteous_ , this is Imperial Knight Cancal requesting priority emergency beam-out direct to Medical."

" _Knight Cancal, this is_ Righteous _. Stand by for beam out."_

Assured they would survive, Jocat looked back down at her long-time training partner. "So, sexy, huh?"

"Thrones' yes!" Juneu whispered with a weak smile as the two disappeared in a flash of white teleporting energy.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"Hermione was able to heal Juneu; he is expected to recover completely. We were too late for Maria, though. I'm sorry, Daniel, the Ashrak got to her when she was out of her armor."

Prince Daniel of Kheb sighed sadly at the thought of one of his personal trainees falling. His second wife Sam placed a hand on his arm while staring intently at him for some clue as to his feelings. Across a wide stretch of beach, Norta played with their children—hers and Sam's alike—at the water's edge. Looking at her now, Daniel wondered at how such an able and blood-thirsty Ranger could be such a loving and wonderful mother. Even Sam's two girls adored her.

He hated the fact that he used these excursions to distract Norta from his and Sam's discussions. He wasn't always sure it worked, but it was one of the few times he and Sam could talk without fear of their every word getting back to Luna. He was sure Norta loved him, but he was also absolutely certain where her loyalties were. After all, it was because of Luna alone that she was a princess of the realm.

"How goes our research?"

The former United States Air Force captain and astrophysicist grunted as she laid back in the sand. "Slow. We're seeing a lot more activity now that the Aschen have been destroyed, but it's still been a challenge. Intelligence gathering has never been my strong point. Fortunately, most of the Jaffa and even some of our Hebridan and Terran operatives seem to take it for granted that the Prince would want his own spy network in addition to that of the Vice Empress Luna."

Daniel couldn't help but chuckle. "I'd imagine Luna feels the same way."

Sam scowled. "She doesn't like me."

"She likes you fine," Daniel said.

"You're a terrible liar considering your profession, Daniel." She turned to meet his eyes briefly before nodding to Norta. "She's a better mother than I am. More importantly, her kids are all Force-sensitive."

"Whereas your kids are brilliant and beautiful, just like their mother."

Sam's cheeks turned slightly pink. Even after two children, she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, Daniel thought. The fact that she was comfortable enough in the privacy of their retreat to wear a revealing, black two-piece bikini just illustrated _how_ beautiful she was. Motherhood had given her wider, more curved hips and larger breasts that took nothing away from her physical perfection. On the golden sands of a private beach, with her skin glistening with oils under the sun, he considered himself an amazingly lucky man.

"I don't think the Tripartite want to win," Sam said suddenly. In fact, it came out more as a whisper than anything.

Such a statement completely ruined the idea he had of burying his face in her spectacular breasts. "What?"

She met his gaze, and in so doing let him see the worry in her eyes. "It's…a pattern. I've been sifting through action reports and at first I just couldn't understand some of the decisions the Tripartite were making, until I started putting the pieces into a larger puzzle."

"And?"

Sam frowned and shrugged as she leaned closer to him. Their retreat was in the southwestern continent of Kalmah—an exclusive resort wholly owned and operated by the Imperial Family.

She handed him a data tablet. "Look, we have between twenty and thirty current active engagements with Ori forces at any given time across the galaxy. The Ori will invade a world, we'll attack and repel them; the Ori move on to a different world. The Orici is reputed to be just as powerful as the Emperor is. We have credible reports of him converting whole cities with a single speech, and destroying whole cities with fire just like the Emperor can if they resist. But we also know for a fact that he just turned fifteen. He's an inexperienced wunderkind being advised by your physicist sister, and it shows in his strategy."

Daniel saw what she was saying, but for some reason his mind refused to grasp onto it. "What are you trying to say?"

"Daniel, I've read of some of the Emperor's campaigns in the past. The Goa'uld under Anubis were a numerically superior force. They had more soldiers and more ships. Your adopted parents wiped them out in less than four years despite being significantly out-gunned through most of the war."

She leaned over closer to Daniel and touched a spot on the tablet. "Look at these deployments, Daniel. The Empire is actually on an even keel with the Ori, and whenever Harry, Hermione or Luna actually engage Ori forces directly, it's nearly an automatic win. My God, when Amhar stripped half his fleet to obliterate the Aschen, we should have won the war right then and there. And yet we've been sitting at a near stalemate for over a year. Why?"

"You think it's because he doesn't want to win?"

Their daughter Claire Luna's delighted scream of laughter drew their attention to the coast, where Norta had thrown the girl into the water next to her own kids.

"I…maybe?" Sam glanced back at Daniel, and he could see realization as her lips puckered. "Daniel? Daniel, what aren't you telling me?"

"Tell me your thoughts first," he said.

Sam frowned as she studied him intently. "Fine. I wasn't sure until I read about Tritillion, a former world of Ba'al's. The Emperor was personally leading the counter-attack when word came that the Orici was there. By coincidence, the Vice Empress Hermione called for assistance in a campaign she'd already wrapped up. But the Emperor personally diverted the entire attack force to help her. It was an obvious diversion to prevent the Emperor from actually facing the Orici."

 _And Luna and Hermione are going along with it. Maybe not even consciously, but they're going along with it. They're afraid of Amhar._ Daniel sighed before turning the data pad off and handing it back to Sam. He flopped back onto the pure white sand and stared into the endless cobalt sky. There were no clouds, and the sun was far enough to the west not to hurt his eyes when he stared up.

"Daniel?"

He turned to stare at her. She was leaning over, almost spilling out of her black bikini. While Norta may have had the most beautiful posterior of any woman he'd ever seen, Sam's breasts were simply breathtaking.

The real difference between his two wives, however, was that he could discuss his concerns regarding the Tripartite Thrones with Sam. Norta, for all her devotion to him, would never understand, being absolutely loyal to the Thrones and Luna in particular. After all, it was because of Luna that Norta was a princess of the Empire. It was because of Luna that she got the man she loved, even if she had to share him.

"Suppose you're an Olympic athlete on Earth," Daniel said absently, deep in thought as he tried to explain what he believed was happening. "You've been training your entire life for one competition. It's consumed every minute of every day you've been alive and conscious. Finally the time comes, you run your race, and suddenly it's all over. The race is done. What do you do?"

He loved when Sam shrugged in a bikini. "You live your life. You move on and find some other challenge, or you prepare for the next Olympics."

"Except there won't be a next one. The Ori were the very reason Harry Potter was forged into the Akai'kheb; the Ancients were the ones that did it. You've read his story. He was just a boy once—a brave, loving, selfless boy. He wasn't an unearthly warrior. He was a little boy who sacrificed himself out of love. But the Ancients turned that little boy into a weapon of almost unimaginable power, and gave his life meaning in a way none of us can understand. He was like your Jesus—a literal messiah sent by actual gods to defend the galaxy against an untold evil.

"Now that that evil has arrived—now that Harry's moment has finally come—he doesn't want it to end. He told me, when Anubis rose to power, that when you have a legitimate threat, you send your big guns first, and that he himself was the biggest gun in the Empire. He knows he could win the war, Sam, but he isn't doing that. He's prolonging the fight because he can't imagine living without it."

She stared down at him with eyes as blue as the sky behind her, her thin lips set in an intense frown. "And how many people are going to die so he can prolong his moment of glory?"

"That's the question, isn't it? Because there's a solution. A weapon I learned about from the Ancient Repository. Harry must know about it too, but he refuses to even consider it."

"Why?"

"Because it could destroy all ascended beings, Ancients and Ori alike. If he used that weapon… well, what reason would he have to fight any more?"

He sat up as his kids suddenly ran toward him, his eldest Melburn in the lead, followed by Claire, Earnest and little Cynthia. They all tackled him into the sand, laughing uproariously. The heavily pregnant Norta followed, laughing herself. "They wished you to play with them," she said. "I am too tired."

"Then it must be our turn!" Daniel said. He rolled to displace the kids before climbing to his feet. Sam smiled as she took his hand, and with their kids in each arm, marched back to the water so that Norta could rest under the shade of the umbrella placed just for that purpose.

The section of the beach they claimed had a secure net far into the ocean, positioned strategically over a granite ledge that provided a shallow lagoon perfect for swimming. The kids all had their arm floaties on, and since Norta enjoyed playing at the water's edge but did not like to swim, it was Daniel and Sam who led the four out into the water.

"Look at me, mama!" Cynthia squealed as she kicked furiously with her plump, toddler's legs.

Daniel met his wife's eyes, and they mutual understanding that the fate of Empire could continue undecided for a few hours.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Growing up in the presence of three powerful Force-users, Daniel knew for a fact that Harry, Hermione and Luna slept together more often than not. Each had their own bedroom within the palace for when they were alone, but if any of them were on-planet together, what little sleep they took was in the same bed.

Daniel spent many a night, cheeks flaming, as their passions flooded the Force. Who needed pornography when he was in the presence of a ménage a trois of powerful psychics? Worse yet, when he was older, Daniel realized the Tripartite probably felt his natural and inevitable reaction to their passion just as he felt them. Thankfully, none of them ever spoke of it.

The thought came to him as he leaned over and kissed the soundly sleeping Norta. He might not have had as much in common with Norta as he did Sam, but he cared for both women intensely. And because he cared for them—loved them, even—he knew better than to ever suggest they all sleep together. It is entirely possible he wouldn't survive the experience. More importantly, neither of them would enjoy it. Sam and Norta were always polite to each other; even kind. But there was little overt affection. Both knew that if Daniel ever assumed the throne, it would be his children with Norta who would be in line to succeed him.

With a gentle nudge of the Force, Daniel ensured Norta would not wake any time soon. It astonished him that a former Ranger enjoyed pregnancy and motherhood as much as she did, but the woman lived for the joy of child-rearing. Sam meanwhile loved her daughters, but also couldn't wait until they were old enough to actually have what she considered an interesting conversation.

He found her in his room, still dressed in the same Terran-style jeans and sweater she put on after they retired back to the house. Sitting across from her at the little bistro table in her room was one of her fellow Terrans—a professor at the University of Byrsa. It was a pattern the two adopted in the past year—inviting an intellectual or artist to join them for an evening. It was the first time for this particular educational luminary.

"Gerry Lane," Daniel said as he stepped in.

Lane hopped to his feet, smiling with a touch of nervousness. "Highness," he said quickly.

"Please, in my pajamas you can call me Daniel. It's good to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you." He reached out and took the man's firm handshake. "How's your family?"

"They're well," he said. "My eldest Rachel accepted a research position at the Imperial Drive Yards last month."

"I believe Sam mentioned that. Can I get you anything? Believe it or not I have a small bottle of authentic Jameson."

The other man's eyes widened. "Really? I…"

"That's a yes, Daniel," Sam said with a smile.

Daniel grabbed three shot glasses from the bar on the far side of Sam's room, placed a single round cube of ice from the inset dispenser, and carried the precious, irreplaceable bottle of thirty-year aged whiskey back to the table. Without a word, he poured each of them a sniff.

The burn was as smooth as Daniel could have hoped. Eridu whiskey had a bitterness he'd never learned to appreciate.

"So, ah…I'm honored. But last I heard it was usually media stars and diplomats who get invited, not archology professors. Please forgive my asking, but why am I here again?"

Daniel studied the man, seeing much of himself as he might have been in the process. "I'm not sure your aware, but my natural parents were both professors at Columbia University in New York. They were recruited by the Akai'kheb in the sixties."

"Actually, I did know that," Gerry said, laughing wryly. "There was an Air Force colonel who convinced me to wear a wire tap when the Vice Empress Luna recruited me to teach English. I remember to this day how well she played us both. She'd dressed up like Cindy…well, like a popular singer of the time, even dyed her hair. I honestly thought she was just another freshmen college girl."

Daniel knew all this, of course. "She told me the story. She was very fond of you. So, I understand your recent publications have some ranking you as one of the top archeological researchers in the Empire. How's your Ancient?"

"Passable, though I can read it far better than I can speak it," Lane admitted. "I understand you yourself are fluent in it. Still, you couldn't ask for a situation with more opportunity for an archeologist than an intersteller network of human-seeded worlds."

"Very true." Daniel finished his whiskey and leaned forward, glancing only briefly at his wife. "Then let me tell you an interesting story. It begins with an Ancient Repository of Knowledge that, for various reasons, I had to absorb into my mind. It is that repository that provided us the technical knowledge to produce ships that can match the Ori."

The repository was _not_ common knowledge. Lane leaned forward, a hungry look on his face as he clutched his glass of whisky with white knuckles. "A Repository? I thought those were all destroyed. That's…that's amazing! Did you learn anything about their culture?"

"Yes. Of their culture, and their history. I learned about our origins as human beings, and the role the Ancients played in that history. They've meddled more than once. For instance, the Merlin of Arthurian legend was not only real, he was an Ancient. He descended from the Ascended realms and retook a mortal form."

"Merlin?" Daniel knew he had the man's full attention. "And the rest?"

"That's why you're here, Gerry. I'd like to sponsor you on a private expedition to find Merlin, and his cave of treasures. I can give you a few hints that I was able to retain from the Ancient Repository, but I suspect it will be a difficult job."

"And potentially dangerous," Sam added.

The professor, now in his fifties, still had a fit body. He sipped his whiskey with a grimace of appreciation. "I survived the devastation of Earth. A little danger is okay now and then. Just don't tell my wife."

"Well, if it makes her feel better you'll be accompanied by the Prince's personal guard," Sam said. "All of whom are former Terran special forces."

"And a pair of Imperial Knights," Daniel added.

Gerry looked from one face to the other. "I…does the…um….how should I ask this?"

"You shouldn't," Daniel said. "Nor should you discuss it with anyone other than the two of us, and your team. This project is need-to-know at my discretion."

"But…why me? I'm nobody."

"If you were nobody, Professor Lane, the Vice Empress would not have hand-picked you to teach here," Daniel noted. "Will you accept?"

"Well, yes, of course. What do you need me to do first?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

It was dangerous to compare women in bed, Daniel knew. As he kissed a slumbering Sam deeper into her dreams, admiring the glisten of sweat on her bare stomach and the down of her sex, he couldn't help to do so. Between the Mal Jaffa former Ranger and the intellectual scientist who happened to know how to use guns, one would expect Norta to be the more passionate.

The opposite was true. Sam's passion burned bright and demanding. Norta was astonishingly gentle and even passive at times, happy to give whatever Daniel asked, and do whatever he wished.

He left the bed, threw on his bathrobe and stepped into the gentle, brisk air of a late night. The sky was perfectly clear above, though he could see the stars obscured by clouds on the horizon. He sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and with more effort than he should have had to expend, sank into the Force.

Instantly he felt an impossibly powerful presence beside him. He somersaulted to his feet, cursing himself for not bringing a lightsaber. His visitor, however, made no move against him. It was a woman, sitting cross-legged across from him with a gentle, almost wistful smile.

"Hello, Daniel," she said in a deep, matronly voice. "You don't know me, but I know you very well. In another time, and another place, you and I were friends. My name is Oma Desala."

The name meant nothing to Daniel, but the virtual gravity-well she created in the Force told him everything he needed to know. "You're an Ancient."

"Yes."

"Are you the one who shaped Uncle Harry?"

"In part, yes."

"Why?"

"To save us."

The intimacy of the 'us' confused him. "What do you mean?"

"Will you sit with me, Daniel?"

Hesitantly, he did so, closing his robe more thoroughly in the process. He sat on his meditation mat, unconsciously assuming the Lotus position as if he were going to meditate. "Why are you here?"

"Because I am afraid," Oma admitted.

"Of Harry?"

"For you, Daniel. May I show you something?"

Hesitantly, Daniel nodded. Instantly his mind was awash with a life unlived. Deaths unexperienced. Ascensions un-ascended. Through-out everything she showed him, he saw no trace of the Tripartite. Instead, he saw himself die. More than once.

"What was that?" he gasped.

"There was a device called a Quantum Mirror that one of our researchers built, eons ago during a plague that was ravishing all life throughout the galaxy. She hoped it would be the key to finding a reality where the plague never occurred. Instead, she realized it simply breached dimensional walls. Your Aunt Luna found it shortly after you shared the knowledge of our people, and had it melted down without telling the others."

"Why?"

"For fear that your Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione would go back to their original reality and abandon the Empire they founded."

"I don't understand."

Oma's smile never faulted. "The Ancients, in clinging to our individuality, never truly became gods. If I concentrate, I can see versions of you throughout every dimension. I've seen versions of you where you spend your entire life in obscurity, others in tragedy. This, however, is the only reality in which you are a prince of an empire. This was not our intention when we began shaping Harry Potter to fight our war for us. Rather, you are an illustration that not even the Ancients are perfect. For us to see the future of all those we impact, we must actively look."

"You didn't look at my future?"

"Yes, but only so far as to see you as a happy young man with both your parents alive and siblings you adored. No more. We saw what we wanted and then stopped looking for the rest. Until now."

"And what does that mean?"

"I can't tell you everything, Daniel. There are rules of engagement even I must adhere to. Instead, I came here to ask you a simple question. What do you think will happen to the people of an unopposed Empire led by immortal beings?"

Abruptly, Oma Desala was gone. Daniel shivered in the suddenly cold air. With a last glance at the approaching cloud bank, he went back inside.


	56. Quests

A/N: A few review responses are in my forums as normal. We are within sight of the end.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Six: Quests**

"That's a sword. That's a sword in a stone."

Jocat Cancal's words echoed through the chamber, which was lit by a pair of portable lamps. Around them, twenty Terran Special Operations soldiers stood at stiff attention while Professor Gerry Lain, chair of the University of Byrsa Department of Archeology, tried not to think of the horror that awaited them just a few hundred feet above.

He was back on Earth—a completely depopulated Earth that still teemed with Ra's weaponized fungal spores.

And yet…while the men around him were all of Terran descent, half were only kids when they escaped. And the two young Imperial knights hadn't even been born yet. Indeed, neither could claim any connection to Earth. Though they both spoke English (was well as Goa'uld and Alteran and a smattering of Hebridan), Jocat's mother was a Mal-Jaffa, while her father was an Eridu. Her fellow knight, Juneu Indich, was the son of a Mal-Jaffa mother and a former slave of Kalhu.

They looked and sounded like someone Gerry might have run into on Earth. Both young, attractive, with a blended skin tone that could be described as anything from Mediterranean to a light-skinned African-American—and yet they were as oblivious to the legendary location where they stood as any alien.

They were standing in a chamber several hundred feet under Glastonbury Tor in England. They were standing in Merlin's Cave _exactly_ where Prince Daniel said it would be.

"So, should we try to…I don't know…pull the sword out or something?" Juneu looked to Gerry for answers.

"That would be the myth, assuming you were the second coming of King Arthur."

"King who?" Juneu asked.

"King Arthur, you dwab," Jocat said. "You know, the one who kept beheading all his wives?"

"Wasn't that Richard something? The twelve or something?" Juneu asked.

Gerry tried not to cry. Obviously Imperial Knights did not study Terran history in depth any more. "Just try the sword."

Juneu complied, and with very little effort removed the sword from the stone.

"Huh, that was easy," he muttered.

Gerry felt his jaw drop. "But…what…but…"

The air beyond the alter shimmered behind the alter until an ancient man appeared in what could have been a parody of a wizard's robes right out of a Hollywood movie. Staff ? Check. Conical hat? Check. Long, wizard's nose? Check.

"Greetings," the hologram said.

"Hi!" Juneu said brightly.

Jocat helpfully slapped the back of his head while Gerry rushed forward. "Greetings! Are you…are you Merlin?"

"That depends," the hologram of the ancient wizard said in perfectly understandable English. "Do I owe you money?"

Juneu laughed uproariously while Gerry frowned and tried to figure out if Prince Daniel was playing some type of elaborate prank on him. "I don't…I don't understand," Gerry said.

The ancient man waved at him. "Oh, I'm just jesting you, young man, don't worry." He walked down the steps. If not for the fact that his feet did not disturb the dust covering the floor, Gerry would have thought he were really there. "I am not Merlin. Merlin, I can tell you with some authority, had a terrible sense of humor. His original name, Moros, meant doom, after all."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm his computer, of course. With a little extra programming here and there. Merlin had more than his share of women in his life, and unfortunately for him none of them particularly liked him. Yet somehow, they all knew the access polyrhythms to alter my programming. Odd, that."

"Tell me about it," Juneu said with a fervent nod. Jocat slapped him again.

"So…the sword in the stone?" Gerry struggled to get back on track. They were there for a reason, which did not include stand-up comedy.

"Genetic sampling," the hologram said. "Originally I would have put you through a couple of silly tests to ensure you weren't utter morons and had the lad there fight a holographic knight in armor. Given he's a genetic throwback to well before the Altera even came to this galaxy, I'd think such would be an exercise in futility. Even my people, before their ascension, would be hard-pressed to fight those gifted as your young companions are."

The hologram leaned on his spear like the old man he appeared. "But all that is moot. Someone, be it Merlin himself or the women who liked to drive him to distraction, went back in time to reprogram me so that if a Neo-Coruscanti such as your companion gripped the sword, the fail safes would deactivate. And, of course, Morgana and Oma both had to do their share of meddling in my programming because…well, women. What can you do?"

"I love this guy," Juneu announced. "Can we take him home?"

The sword shimmered away, as did the dark walls around them. Gerry's heart beat so hard in his chest he thought he would faint as he saw piles and piles of treasures, almost beyond counting.

"Gold doesn't mean much to a people who can convert energy to matter, and who can generate almost unlimited energy," the Merlin Avatar said. "So, who here is the teacher who accompanies the young warriors? Would that be you, my friend?"

Gerry nodded. "Yes. My name is Gerry Lane."

"Well, my young friend, come and I will show you a thing or two of some interest."

"How can you move?" Jocat blurted. "You're a program, aren't you?"

"This was an Alteran emergency shelter," the Merlin Avatar said. "If my internal chronometer is right, it's…well, goodness. I'm over ten thousand years old now. How exciting! What a shame I'm only programmed to emulate emotion. But…what was I saying? Something about hard light emitters throughout? So, come. If the code left in my programming is correct, what you're looking for is in this far chamber."

Gerry, feeling like Alice on the way down the rabbit hole, followed with a sense of shock. "What's a Neo-Coruscanti?"

"Well, my young friend, you've heard of the Four Great races?"

Gerry nodded numbly.

"Those younglings back there are the seed of the Fifth. Now, where are those soul stones?"

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Catherine Jackson, the blessed Virgin Mother of the Orici, never claimed to be an expert in Earth's history. Though she studied at the finest schools in the world, from New York to Sweden, she always had her eyes set to the sky. She was determined she was to return to the stars on her own terms, rather than as second-fiddle to her oh-so-righteous brother.

God, Daniel was such a bore.

Still, she was an exceedingly attractive woman in a field utterly dominated by men. She had her share of harassment, some subtle, some overt, with at least two rape attempts before she was twenty. She might not have been an Imperial knight, but she knew enough not only to defend herself, but permanently maim the second asshole. Because of this, she did have some historical knowledge of women in the medical arts.

There weren't any to speak of, at least not in the Western World. Well, no, she had to admit that there were the rare female physicians that popped up in myth, legend and history. Some regions were better than others. Those that gained status as healers, though, were almost always relegated to gynecology and obstetrics. Ancient Athens, for instance, at one time outlawed all women physicians because of the risk they might perform abortions. The female physician who got the law overturned was as likely to be mythological as historical, if that happened at all.

 _Abortion. Two thousand years and we still couldn't figure it out,_ she thought.

The only reason she dwelled on the lamentable history of women healers was that, against all her expectations, the Ori did not care about the gender of healers in their societies. Partly this was because there were so few actual physicians. The art of medicine required scientific understanding and study. It required corpses to examine in order to learn about the living.

The Ori forbad science. If people advanced enough to gain an understanding of human biology, they might make the leap to the study of evolution, which might in turn lead someone to question the idea that the Ori created all humanity. Science was, at its core, a direct threat to all religion. Nothing was more dangerous to faith than a knowledgeable, educated, critical thinker. Therefore, Catherine wasn't surprised to find an absence of trained physicians, any more than she would have felt surprise at the absence of astrophysicists.

In short, despite ruling the entirety of a galaxy with a trillion or more humans spread over a plethora of worlds, humanity under the Ori never achieved industrialization. It was almost as if they were permanently held at the level of a 11th Century village. The ships the natives built they did so under constant direction of Priors, with no understanding of the science behind the ships. Any geniuses their people might have produced were never given sufficient means to advance, or were killed outright if they spoke any ideas contrary to Origin.

Catherine suspected this system worked as well as it did because the Ori also tolerated no resistance within their galaxy. They intervened directly through their Priors, and if necessary, the Doci. If they employed soldiers, those soldiers were expected to fight until they won, or fight until they died. The wounded were unheard of simply because an injured man was expected to die and so ascend to his place in the heavens.

That was all fine and good, until the soldiers of the Ori encountered their first full division mechanized Imperial infantry. Religious orthodoxy slammed into modern military tactics, training and equipment, and got its ass utterly slaughtered.

In her gilded prison in the former governor's mansion back in Magtireth, sheltered from any possibility of embarrassing the Orici with her 'wanton' ways, she read the statistics of their losses on Statoris, and Acheron, and four other planets.

The only ground victories they could claim were on worlds with either an overwhelming Prior presence, or worlds Amhar attacked personally. In space their warships still held a slight edge over the Imperial heavy cruisers, but in straight combat the Ori soldiers were woefully overmatched. The Priors and Amhar dealt with this problem by throwing bodies at the enemy in such numbers that the Empire occasionally ran out of munitions.

The Priors did not even record the wounded and dead. There were no lists of names to report back to their families in the Ori galaxy. Any man forced into the army was simply presumed dead by his family until he returned to prove otherwise. Even as those casualties exceeded seven figures, many of whom could easily have been saved, they still had no medical corps.

Cathy studied the Book of Origin and the Concordances, not out of faith, but for anything that could support the arguments brewing in her head. She waited for days until she felt her son's blazing presence return after a rare victory. He would be in a good mood, she hoped.

Dressed in her most humble white robes of prayer—the same clothes she wore during her forced imprisonment in Celestis, she marched out of the luxuriously appointed apartments that had become her prison and walked toward the flaming, painful presence of her son. She ignored the two soldiers who guarded her door against any who might visit her, nor did they try to stop her.

Instead, in the hall outside the chamber where she felt her son, a Prior stepped from an alcove into her path, his staff blaring. "Greetings, Blessed Mother," he said in a deep, ominous bass. "What brings you forth this glorious day?"

"I wish to see my son," she said.

"The Orici performs the work of the Ori and cannot be disturbed."

"It is the work of the Ori which brings me forth," Catherine said, unconsciously adopting the Prior's same language. She kept her head slightly bowed in the penitent pose that was pounded into her during her retreat on the Ori homeworld. "Like you, I was chosen of the Ori for a reason. Perhaps I have strayed from the Path. I accepted my punishment with humility, and prayed my thanks to the Ori for correcting me. It is for the Ori and all those who serve that I would speak to my son. And make no mistake, Prior, he knows of my intent."

The Prior simply stared for a long moment before bowing. "So he does, Holy Mother. Pass with the blessings of the Ori."

She nodded regally before continuing on. She fought back a wince every time the Prior's staff slammed into the marble tiles of the floor behind her.

She found her son in the same audience chamber where they confronted her Aunt Hermione almost a year ago. In that year, Amhar had grown even taller and more powerful. He had the faintest hint of whiskers on his cheeks which she knew he did not intend to shave. His cloth-of-gold tunic was studded with rubies and other precious gems. He sat at a table with two new generals and a Prior. The two generals stood at her approach, shielding their nervousness at her presence behind blank expressions.

Amhar, however, remained seated as he greeted her. "Mother."

"Son." Determined to play the part, she gave him the same courtesy the women of Celestis gave the Doci. "I wish to speak to you regarding the status of your men."

She could see the generals bristle. Amhar didn't, but in the Force she felt his consternation. "A sensitive topic to be sure," he said. "You are our mother. You've provided us valuable advice in the past. What do you wish to say?"

Catherine met her son's eyes as she called up her last study. "In your victory at Chantalar, just returned, you suffered four hundred thousand dead."

"Approximately, yes."

"At least half of those died of injuries that would have been cured had they been Imperial."

The general to her right opened his mouth before slamming his mouth shut and bowing his head. Amhar's frown deepened. "Careful, Mother. Your words might be interpreted as shame in our soldiers."

"They shouldn't, my son. Rather, they should be interpreted as the expression of a need. Before coming, I studied the Book of Origin. I read through all the Concordances. I have sought for some guidance on why we are forbidden from trying to heal those men who would give their lives for the Ori, and I cannot find it. With proper healing, you could not just save the lives of men who are loyal to you, but likely field them again. Surely a veteran soldier is more effective than one fresh off the wheat fields? Surely it is better to cherish and save those who fight for us?"

"There aren't enough Priors to heal all the men," Amhar noted. "I heal those I can, but I can't be everywhere at once."

"I know, son." Catherine paused to collect her thoughts. "Amhar, do you remember our time among…do you remember our exile?" She wasn't supposed to mention the Nox.

"I do."

"Do you remember how I helped heal your leg, when you fell?"

"I do."

Catherine waved her hand around the palace. "I am _wasted_ here, son. I was chosen to bear you to this world because _I had power._ Perhaps not as much as those of our enemies, but I too bear some of the power you carry inside you. More importantly, I possess knowledge. Locking me up in a gilded cage does not serve the Ori or further our cause. If you are afraid I might embarrass you, then give me something to do! Remember what Mallon said? 'An idle man devises mischief; and in his lips there is a scorching fire.' I am here asking…begging…to no longer be kept idle."

She _had_ him. Quoting from the Book of Origin lent instant credibility. "What would you do, mother?"

"The Ori are wise and powerful," Catherine said. "You and the Priors are their instruments in this plane of existence. You all know that there are Goa'uld devices that allowed the worms to heal. Why could you or the Priors not create such a device for the women of the Ori's people? As our men go forth to fight, let me form a medical corps to heal those who have not ascended to join the Ori, so that they can fight again or return home to lead productive lives?"

The general to her right was studying her with a gaping jaw. The one on her left kept his head bowed. Amhar, though, looked past her at the Prior before meeting Catherine's eyes. "And if you came across Imperial soldiers?"

"As Tyolus said, 'Seek not the wickedness amongst your neighbors, lest it find purchase in your own house.' The medical corps would heal any man, woman or child, so that all could see the blessing and mercy of the Ori. You could deploy us on worlds to be converted, so that all could see the Mercy and Love of the Ori. And if we healed Imperials and convinced them of our cause, this could only be good as well. If not, then they will know some mercy before the fires purify them."

Amhar frowned not in consternation, but in deep thought. He turned to one of his men. "General Mandir?"

The general on Catherine's right stared before bowing to her son. "Holy Orici. I must admit…it pained me that we lost so many. I rejoice in their ascension, and I know they reside with the Ori, and yet their loss hampers the Holy War. If we could save even a portion, I would think it only a good thing."

"General Juandun?"

The man on his left met Catherine's eyes with his own dark gaze before turning to Amhar. "It is fitting, Orici. That the mother who gave us the Holy Orici to bring Origin to this galaxy would give healing to those who follow you."

Catherine expected him to ask the Prior, but when he didn't she thought she understood. Amhar was above even the Doci, shaped over two years by the Ori themselves. He carried within his mind all the knowledge the Ori could give. She had no doubt that he could build an Ori cruiser himself, or a Stargate for that matter.

A healing device would be simple.

"I approve, Mother," Amhar said with the first smile she'd seen on his face since he imprisoned her on Magtireth. "In fact I applaud you. I believe your idea will help spread the beneficence and glory of the Ori. Go, organize your medical corps. By the time you are ready we will have healing devices prepared for your use."

"Thank you, Amhar." She curtseyed to her son, nodded to the two generals, and walked back with the same silent determination she had when she arrived. She had a lot of work to do.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

There were always stipulations with the Ori. Always limitations. Amhar created the healing devices as he promised. They looked just like Goa'uld hand-held healing devices, accept their emitter stones were green inset in platinum.

"Of course, only a virgin woman can wield one," Amhar said as he finished explaining. "All except yours. We wouldn't want these devices ending up in enemy hands."

Catherine found herself staring at her son's expectant smirk with an utter lack of surprise. She found herself trying so hard to find any trace of the little boy she knew, but if it was there, the Ori had buried it deeply. "Of course," she said, as if such a limitation were perfectly expected. "How better to cement your own myth and mine than a seeming confirmation of my virgin state."

"We're glad you approve, Mother," he said. She didn't know when he'd picked up the royal 'we', but she found it a challenge to hide her irritation. "We've assigned a Prior to accompany you back to the home galaxy to recruit."

"Thank you."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

They flocked to Cathy.

Village after village, gaunt-faced, starving young girls flocked to her banner. She was thankful that the Prior was able to determine their 'suitability' with his power rather than some Medieval examination, but she doubted even that would have stopped them from coming.

If she hadn't been so wrapped up in the horrors of her own life, she might have been able to guess what it was like for pre-industrialized, largely illiterate agrarian societies to have all of their able-bodied men stripped away to fight. In a post-industrial world women could have stepped into predominately male roles to keep their society running, just like the American experience during World War II.

In pre-industrial agrarian societies, where food preparation alone could take the better part of a day and the farming of the food was back-breaking labor for 10-14 hours a day, villages were suffering. Young, unmarried women flocked to her almost the moment she emerged from the Stargate flanked by a Prior and two Ori soldiers not out of loyalty or faith, but simply for the promise of food.

The hard part was having to turn some away. She could take no more than 10,000. When Amhar first put that limitation on her, she thought the idea ridiculous that she could even find that many virgins period.

In reality she was turning away hundreds at every village on every planet they visited. Some of the vetting was easy. No one under sixteen. No one over thirty. She envisioned these women as field medics and wanted them young enough to actually move freely without the inevitable infirmities of age. She excluded herself simply because of her easy lifestyle. These women's lives were anything but easy, and it showed in how old even a woman of thirty looked.

Some she had to turn away for no other reason than they had no more slots for that village. Those she selected were sent back through the gate to Celestis where they would be trained in the use of the healing devices, while Cathy continued to the next village on the next world.

In the course of only two weeks, she gathered all 10,000 young women in a field between two newly built Ori cruisers bound for the front. While she had been recruiting, the Doci and the nuns of Celestis had taken it upon themselves to clothe the newly christened Sisters of the Path with the same clothes as what the nuns themselves wore. White robes hung to their ankles, over which was a light blue overcoat with necklaces of the Ori staff symbol around their necks.

The necklaces powered the healing devices, though the women did not know that. Rather, the Doci taught them all only their faith in the Ori would give them the power to heal.

The two ships transporting the Sisters joined a convoy of fifty other Ori cruisers from around the Celestis galaxy, all heading toward the first of two super gates on the rim of the Milky Way that connected the two galaxies. She knew without a doubt each of the Ori ships were filled with easily thirty thousand men, all crammed together so tightly they had only the room to sit or stand. Her Sisters, after all were crammed just as tightly.

They arrived at Magtireth less than a month after Cathy left. Her son, she learned quickly enough, had already left for a new front. The nervous, often terrified young women were herded out of their respective ships onto a staging field just south of the city. That was the first time Cathy saw the ships that would carry her order across the field.

Though small compared to the Ori warships that surrounded them, the twenty Goa'uld-built troop transports were still each easily the size of an old Terran air-craft carrier, roughly three hundred meters each. The ships rose to a height no Terran would design, with a pyramid-like dome toward the rear which housed the pel-tak. They were the ships Goa'uld used to ferry their Jaffa when no ha'tak was needed.

Walking toward them was an Ori commander she did not recognize, with a squad of twenty young, obviously female Jaffa wearing what female Jaffa did—mid-drift baring leathers meant to accentuate their chests and hips.

The 10,000 nun-trained virgin girls of the Celestis galaxy began tittering to each other like a flock of birds at the unsettling sight of strong women in revealing leather. The absence of a Prior was odd, but Cathy simply didn't care at that point.

The commander knelt and bowed his head as he arrived. The Jaffa woman behind him did the same. "Blessed Mother, I am Tomin. I have been appointed the task of providing transportation to the Sisters of the Path for their various roles."

Cathy crooked a smile. "And this was your solution?"

The poor man stuttered. "I…yes, Blessed Mother. The Orici gave me the task but made it known that I could not use any ships meant to carry our brethren to the front. After some research, I discovered that the Goa'uld who once lived here kept many transports in reserve. These Jaffa behind me are all virgins who have pledged themselves to the Ori. They are capable pilots for the ships."

"Stand, then, and let me look at you."

The Jaffa women stood faster than Tomin, who appeared to wince a little as he regained his feet. Ignoring him, Cathy instead walked among the twenty pilots. All were joined Jaffa—she could feel their symbiotes. The Jaffa of Magtireth rejected the Empire's gene therapy, which meant their Jaffa still suffered a terrible mortality rate that promised to grow because of the absence of viable symbiotes. It was a cultural suicide the Jaffa knowingly committed for the sake of their honor.

They looked young, but Cathy knew that meant little with Jaffa. More importantly, they looked strong and stood with fierce expressions on their faces.

"The Sisters that will be entrusted into your care are not warriors," Cathy said. "They were daughters and maids, taken from farms across a hundred worlds from a galaxy so far away this world may never see its light. They came not to fight, but to heal and make whole. I can see that you are all warriors. You still proudly bear the mark of the Morrigan, though you have pledged yourselves to the Ori as your new gods. I say this only to warn you that if you accompany us, the safety of the Sisters will be your responsibility. You will _be_ a Sister of the Path, as surely as those you see before you. Is this a responsibility you can accept?"

"Yes!" All twenty Jaffa responded together, like soldiers barking responses to their sergeant.

"Then welcome, my sisters. Attend your ships while we make your assignments."

Fighting a smile, Cathy began to divide the girls into their various transports, five hundred to each. Those she had taken an interest in as being more intelligent or curious, she kept to her own. Soon enough, the Sisters of the Path had their assigned ships, and within hours of arriving in their new galaxy, they were on their way to the various fronts to heal those they could.

The Jaffa pilots proved their worth easily, acting not just as pilots but also as den mothers. Everything was going as well as Cathy could hope for. That fragile hope did not last longer than their first battle, where all aboard lost whatever innocence they clung to with the horrors of war.


	57. Soul to Soul

A/N: Chap 56 review responses in my forums as normal. Approximately 5 chapters left, and possibly an epilogue.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Seven: Soul to Soul**

It never really registered in Cathy's mind that the people of the Celestis galaxy basically spoke a dialect of Alteran. Because of her exposure to the Ancient repository, the language had been imprinted directly into her brain as if born to it. That's why she never thought twice about speaking it while on Celestis.

She had five hundred young women under her direct supervision, and a total of 10,000 officially under her command, who did not speak any of the languages of the Milky Way. They could not speak with their Jaffa pilot or any of the other Jaffa or humans who converted to the Path of Origin.

If she were a paranoid person, she might think such a language barrier was precisely what Amhar intended when he let her recruit only from the Ori-planets.

What her son didn't realize because he'd never stopped to think about it, was that one didn't obtain multiple doctorates on Terra without teaching classes. Lots and lots of classes. She knew for a fact that entire freshmen classes of young would-be physicists jerked themselves to sleep dreaming about her giving them special instruction.

The nerdy little pervs.

After their first deployment, when Cathy saw how utterly shell-shocked and horrified her girls were, she raided a school on the shattered world Amhar's forces had conquered, requisitioned a dozen white boards and boxes of markers, and once back in space called them into a general assembly in the main staging room of the ship.

"I know the last three days were difficult for you," Cathy said to the silent, numbed girls. They'd all changed to their informal under robes since they were alone, save for their Jaffa pilot. "You've never seen carnage like that. I wish I could tell you it gets better. Instead, I can only say that without you there, it would have been much, much worse. You saved many lives that would otherwise be with the Ori. Thank you."

She motioned toward the board. "I believe it is time, however, to teach you the languages of this galaxy. Whether you stay or not will depend on the will of the Ori, but if you learn the languages here, it will give you good stead regardless. But first, we've all been sitting too long. I want everyone to stand up, and stretch with me."

Even the Jaffa pilot, Tal'ai, joined the calisthenics that Catherine put everyone through. When done, she began teaching the assembled girls the basics of English.

"Why do you not teach them Goa'uld?" Tal'ai demanded after, showing none of the subservience the Ori-raised girls did.

Rather than be offended, Cathy chuckled. "The best way to understand your enemy is to speak their language. I'll teach the Goa'uld as well, or you can if you wish."

The answer satisfied the pilot, who continued on to her station. That made up their days after—calisthenics and then lessons. In the rush of boredom that affected all militaries between battles, it gave structure to their day and something for everyone to do.

All that changed when they received summons to Knosis.

The former home world of the Goa'uld System Lord Cronus was not just of vital strategic importance, the world itself was a virtual garden. Two small tidally-locked moons provided a tidal force that made the temperate, water-rich planet was close to human norm as possible to find.

The rich farm lands provided sufficient food for a fast-growing population of Mal-Jaffa and humans, as well as the aging but still vital core of Cronus' original Jaffa. More importantly, the humans of Cronus remembered the lengths the Akai'kheb went to free human slaves from Cronus (even if they were from Hebridan), while the Mal Jaffa knew it was because of the Akai'kheb that they would be able to live without a Goa'uld symbiote in their belly.

It was a world devoted to the Empire, and to the Akai'kheb personally. It was a world the Empire was obligated to defend. It was a world that saw five million Celestis men throw their lives away at the word of Catherine Jackson's son.

Cathy watched the initial attack from small cockpit of the troop transport, standing over Tal'ai's shoulder.

Hanging far back from the fleet, she watched as a dozen heavy Ori cruisers swept in a horizontal line toward the hardened defensive satellites that guarded Knosis' skies. Phased anti-matter missiles with Ancient-designed propulsion systems swarmed out in glowing balls of death in numbers almost beyond counting.

The phasic shielding made them ridiculously hard to destroy. And yet the heavy cruisers were shielded by a similar level of technological prowess. The two sides exchanged volleys of weapons whose energies could have split worlds in half. Three heavy cruisers exploded before they managed to destroy the four satellites.

The five ships on picket duty engaged, but of the five only three were the Imperial heavy cruisers that could survive a slug fest with Ori ships. As space around Knosis shimmered with hundreds of fighters, the remaining nine Ori cruisers ripped apart the defending fleet with only one more ship lost on their side, though two were seriously damaged.

Cathy knew soldiers were already deploying through the Stargate below to form a beachhead. The fighters would provide air cover, while more soldiers would deploy from the orbiting heavy cruisers.

"Victory, Holy Mother," Tal'ai noted.

"Victory," Cathy agreed. "At the cost of only four heavy cruisers, each with ten thousand men on board. And they just now began fighting on the surface. We have our work cut out for us, Tal'ai."

The Ori ships began pecking at the planetary shields, a relatively new defensive measure the Empire had begun to deploy to their strategically important worlds. It did not prevent troops through the gate, but it prevented orbital bombardment and eliminated the possibility for the Ori to establish air superiority, while the Empire's defensive forces maintained fighters on land as well as in Orbit.

The battle raged for nearly twelve hours, with more Ori cruisers arriving to reinforce the initial attack. Finally, the ground forces reached the planetary shield generator. As soon as it fell, Catherine was given permission to bring the frigate down to begin her ministrations.

They flew into devastation. The city of Knosis which leant its name to the planet housed over four million just twelve hours prior. Now the city held only a few hundred thousand civilians, and over a million Ori soldiers who were continually pushing out from the Stargate to assert dominance.

With the collapse of the shield, Ori fighters had engaged the Imperial defensive forces in numbers that filled a smoky sky. None fired on the frigate as it descended. Imperials likely believed it was one of theirs, while the Ori forces knew the ship carried the Blessed Virgin Catherine.

Regardless, the flat-bottomed, triangular ship came to a rest in the blackened remnants of a park not far from the glassed fortress that once housed Cronus himself.

The five hundred young women under Catherine's command flooded out of the ship, clad in their blue and white gowns and the winged headdresses that marked their statuses as nuns.

Catherine was last out, and was met by death. Lines of men waited for a small spark of hope as they lay dying in unbelievable numbers. To either side of the endless field where Ori soldiers brought their wounded, massive piles of bodies rose like small mountains. The smell almost overpowered her, until she slipped her breath mask on.

With a bitter sigh, she got to work.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Catherine established staggered, two hour shifts with mandatory half hour breaks. It was necessary during fourteen hour days to keep her girls from breaking under the stress of never ending bodies.

Even the most critical patient could be made whole with a healing device in ten minutes, save for lost limbs. But when they were facing casualties in the hundreds of thousands, those minutes added up quickly. Catherine knew men were dying solely because there were not enough sisters to reach them. Those they did reach greeted them as sisters, declaring their love, adoration and all the blessings of the Ori.

Once their declarations of adoration were spent, the poor, hopeless men were immediately guided back by Priors or their commanders to the constant battle that raged on the outskirts of the city.

The sound of war was as numbing as the smells and sights. On the horizon, just past the city line, the planet's garrison mounted a defensive line that even the Priors could not break through, because of the presence of Imperial knights on the planet. The explosions in the distance made the ground rumble under their feet. The skies were dark not with clouds, but constant smoke. Occasionally the quickly depleting fighters would fly sorties against each other, or against the enemy side.

Catherine lost two of her sisters to a bombing run on the second day of the battle.

On the third day of battle, a Prior marched toward them down the narrow row between bodies waiting to be healed. "Holy Mother, word has come that the battle is lost. The blasphemers were able to land vast reinforcements, and our ships are sorely pressed to hold open a lane. By the Orici's Word, you are to depart."

"What of the wounded?"

"Do as you will to further the cause," the Prior said dismissively.

Around her, the nearest sisters heard everything and watched in silence as the Prior departed. Catherine viewed the endless rows of those waiting to be healed and quickly did the math in her head.

"Sisters! Do triage and only take aboard only those men who will be intact upon healing. You, soldiers! Help us carry your brothers aboard! Move! The enemy comes!"

In this area, Catherine's word was as binding as that of the Orici himself. Those soldiers who were ambulatory and seeking aid for more minor wounds immediately set about assisting the sisters in lifting the simple fabric stretchers each man lay on. They managed to get almost a thousand men aboard before an Imperial frigate billowed out of the cloud cover and started vaporizing the Ori defensive line.

"Everyone on board now! Tal'ai, get the ship in the air!"

By the time Catherine reached the cramped bridge of the frigate, they were already in the air. The last Ori fighters provided cover as they quickly retreated. Before they even reached orbit, Catherine could see the great, wedge-shaped Imperial heavy cruisers slugging it out with their Ori equivalents. Brilliant beam weapons seared through clouds of interphasic missiles and even more exotic weaponry.

Ori ships disappeared in the midst of white plumes of unbelievable energy as their singularity drives collapsed, ship after ship. Of the twenty total ships Amhar committed to Knosis, only four managed to escape in formation around her frigate.

Five million Celestis men died in three days. And for what?

"We have wounded to heal," Catherine announced to the silent, disheartened crew. "I'll be in the triage room."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"Holy Mother? May we enter?"

Catherine's quarters aboard the transport once belonged to First Prime of the Morrigan. It was the largest private room on the ship, and was still smaller than the bathroom she used on Magtireth. Yet for all its cramped size, it was _her_ room. It represented a freedom she'd never had since she set foot on her nightmare path of selfishness and stupidity. Even in the dead of night, exhausted and numb from the horrors of useless war, she cherished these cramped quarters.

"Come in."

She knew every one of the Sisters aboard her ship by name. The young woman with dark blonde hair who entered first was named Denya, from Ver Isca. Behind her came another attractive young girl, still in her teens, with pitch black skin and violet eyes common to her world back in the Celestis galaxy. Gar Malisk, if she remembered correctly. Both young women bowed as they entered before Denya closed the door.

Before Catherine could ask what they wanted, both fell to their knees and prostrated themselves.

"What is this for? You know I don't ask for prostration aboard this ship."

"We have committed a sin against the Ori, Holy Mother," Denya said in a trembling voice. "We have committed a sin against your most glorious son, the Orici."

Catherine slowly sank down to her bed, studying the two intently. She could feel no threat in the Force, but then again her connection was always tenuous at best. "And what sin is that, Sisters?"

"We have had words with an agent of the enemy, dressed as one of our men. He made a request of us, and we complied. He asked that we bring something to you."

Denya slowly removed a palm-sized pebble which she placed on the floor.

Catherine studied the stone as if it were a snake, wondering if the two had turned traitor and brought a grenade into her presence. Yet even as the thought occurred to her, she knew it wasn't true. "Did this agent have a name?"

It was Agarana who answered in her charming, lyrical accent. "His name was Barrett, Holy Mother," she said. "He claimed to carry a gift to you from your brother, Prince Daniel of Kheb."

"And why did you not report this immediately to the nearest Prior?" Catherine demanded.

Denya raised her head enough to look Catherine in the eye, and she saw in the younger woman's gaze the very fire that made her pick her. "Because I chose not to, Holy Mother."

There it was. The true sin. The true blasphemy. Denya was an apostate. A corner of Catherine wondered if she hadn't already known—perhaps that's why she was so unconsciously drawn to the young woman to begin with. Hers was the angry fire of outrage.

"You risk your life, and that of your companion," Catherine pointed out.

"Some things, Holy Mother, are worth dying for," Agarana noted as she too raised her head.

"Both of you, please get off the floor and sit. I'm no more holy than I am a virgin."

Denya snorted, though Agarana looked startled before both climbed to their feet and took two of the four chairs Cathy kept in her room for private meetings. She studied the two women intently, using her limited sensitivity to get a feel for them. It was the first time she'd ever bothered to do so to such an extent.

Neither woman spoke; perhaps they felt her presence. She was nowhere near as subtle as Luna, nor powerful as Hermione, Daniel or Harry. "Tell me," she said simply.

"There are…some who question," Denya said simply. "In every village, some wonder. Especially since coming here, and seeing how those who are not of the Ori live. They know things. Learn things. Like you. You are the first women I've ever known who knew letters and numbers."

"Not surprising, given I'm likely the most educated person in Ori-controlled space," Catherine said dryly. "For all his many faults, my Uncle Harry made sure his people were educated."

"Uncle…" Agarana gasped. "The Akai'kheb is your uncle?"

Denya laughed. "Agarana, if her brother is the Prince, would he be anything else?"

"He is my uncle by adoption," Catherine explained. "My parents were Terran. After they were killed, the Tripartite took Daniel and I in. But…I was unhappy. So I returned with family friends to Terra, where I was educated. Even there, I was unhappy though."

 _Unhappy._ She'd had every advantage. Because of Luna's generosity she lived a life of privilege on Earth few could achieve. She'd had the finest education, finest food, finest everything. But always she was unhappy. She wanted _more._ And what did her desires achieve?

Suddenly, Cathy found she couldn't breathe. It felt as if a terrible, impossible weight squeezed her chest so hard that she would simply liquefy under the pressure. With the weight came the inescapable knowledge—the absolute, undeniably certainty—that Earth died because of her. Her grandparents died _because of her._

 _Luna warned them._ She warned General West for years and years not to reopen the Stargate. Nana Catherine told her growing up that the Stargate would lead to Earth's destruction. But alone came snotty, spoiled little Catherine Jackson, determined above all else to prove she was as important and good as her brother. What did her pride accomplish?

She ignored those who were genuinely wiser than she, and for her arrogance and hubris led Ra right to Earth. Her world died. Six billion people died. Catherine and Earnest Littlefield died. All because of her. Was that enough?

 _No, of course not. No, in a fit of pique and outrage over the death of a man I wanted but had no claim on, I raped my own uncle and gave birth to the fucking anti-Christ. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

Abruptly she felt hands on her shoulders. "Breathe," Denya whispered kindly.

Catherine had been crying. Not quiet weeping, but horrid, gut-wrenching sobs that left her gasping for air. The two young women who moments before prostrated themselves before her now sat on either side of her on the edge of her bed, each with an arm around her shoulders.

"They call me the Holy Mother, but it's a lie," Catherine sobbed. "There's nothing holy about what I've done. It's all my fault. All of this is my fault!"

"Perhaps, but the Ori must have always known of this galaxy," Denya explained. "The Priors teach that you brought the light to the galaxy. Perhaps you did, but not in the way they intend. You've shown us all on this ship that a woman can lead. That she can be learn new things, teach new things. For this, we would follow you."

Catherine forced herself to breathe as she wiped her eyes and nose. "You…how many?"

"All of us currently aboard," Denya said. "There are others scattered through sisters on other ships. Some few men as well, but the movement has always been strongest among the women."

That meant little, with a Prior aboard. But the number staggered her a moment. "What is your goal?"

"To free our people," Agarana said.

"And to end this terrible war," Denya added.

Cathy pointed to the stone on the floor. "And that?"

"A means of communication," Denya said. "Patriots from another village had one, and described what it could do. It is from before the Ori and so proscribed as heretical. You must not let any Prior see it."

"What do I do with it?"

"Just touch it," Agarana explained. "Hold it in your hand. The agent said it was made just for you."

"If you wish, we will stay and guard you," Denya promised.

Cathy felt nothing but honesty from the two women, two who had just seen her stripped away of all her pomp, circumstances and mythos. "Why? How can you trust me?"

"It is as Denya said," Agarana said as she hugged Cathy tightly. "You have shown us how much more we can be, just be being who you are. For that, we honor you."

"Take the stone," Denya said. "Hear what your brother has to say."

Catherine nodded. Denya knelt down, lifted the stone from the floor, and held it before the older woman. Without any hesitation, she dropped it into Cathy's waiting palm and…

She blinked her eyes and found herself on a beautiful beach. Overhead, an endless blue sky didn't even give a hint of clouds. The sounds of the waves sweeping over the sound drew her eyes toward the ocean. She herself was in shade—a large umbrella protected her from a bright sun overhead.

The sound of laughter made her look further into the water, where children were playing. "Where am I?"

A hand took hers, and she spun around to see her brother in nothing but a bathing suit, sitting beside her with a longing, hopeful expression. He looked so… _old_.

"Cathy? Is that you? Did it work?"

"Daniel? Where…how…?"

"Alteran soul stones," he explained. "Right now, Sam is in your body."

"Sam? Your wife?"

He nodded with a puppyish expression that made him look like he was a teen again. "I…are you alright? Our spy network said you were under house arrest for months."

She didn't even question how they managed to get spies into Ori-controlled space. "Did they say why?"

"Nothing definitive."

Catherine sighed before flopping back into a cushioned lounge chair. The act of doing so distracted her. "Holy shit, Daniel, this girl is stacked. No wonder my back hurts."

When she looked back at her brother, he was staring with mouth agape. "I…you're communicating to me through an ancient soul-stone from across the galaxy, on opposite sides of a war that has cost millions of lives, and all you can think about are Sam's breasts?"

"Well, they just…fine." She looked across the beach. "Those are your kids? I heard you had two wives?"

"Luna's idea, not mine," Daniel said.

"Ever do 'em both at once?"

"Catty, really?"

"God, I hate that name, Dan-Dan."

She waited for the inevitable blow up. Instead, he started chuckling. He sat up, looking ridiculously handsome for a man past fifty, and shook his head. Old, but handsome. "I should have gone with you."

She met his gaze squarely. "And I should have stayed. Earth died because of me."

"Earth died because of Ra. There's a pretty big distinction between making a mistake and committing genocide. But that's…" He stopped, reached out, and took her hand. "Cathy, listen. I need to know. If I could bring you home, and end this war, would you come?"

"And my son?"

"Is he really your son anymore?"

The question hurt as much as it did because she knew he wasn't. "It's too late for me, Dan-Dan," she whispered. "Too much blood on my hands. Uncle Harry would never allow me back."

"Pretend, Cathy. Like we're back at home in Byrsa, sneaking rum behind mother's back. Remember? Pretend I can do anything. If I could—if I could bring you home, and end this war, would you come to me? To your nieces and nephews? Would you help me?"

She glanced across the pristine white sands at the family she'd never seen, and wept. "God, yes."

* * *

This is the last of the Cathy-centric chapters. The stage is set, the actors are in their places. Ready, set, action.


	58. Address Issues

A/N: Chap 57 review responses are in my forums as normal. A note on this chapter-it is based on my favorite late SG-1 episodes, "Bad Guys". More importantly, it is the beginning of the end. After this, there are four more chapters and the epilogue.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Eight: Address Issues**

"Don't tell Sylvana, she's like a sister to me," Verina whispered as she pulled Heren down into another kiss.

The two had left the party separately, but only to meet in one of the display halls of the Federal Museum of Antiquities. Verina was forced to attend because her father was one of the sponsoring chancellors of the place, but it was most certainly not what she would have considered a primary source of entertainment.

Until she learned that Sylvana and Heren would also be attending. _That_ changed the entire nature of the event, as far as Verina was concerned. Despite her assertion to Heren of how dear Sylvana was to her, in fact she despised the other woman for knowingly wearing an identical dress to the Chancellor's Ball the previous year.

She didn't care for Heren at all, but the chance to take something away from Sylvana was simply too delicious to pass up. And Heren himself was such a cheating cad that it never even crossed his mind not to respond to her invitation for a dalliance.

If nothing else, Heren was a good kisser. His hand was already up her dress, and she basked in the sudden, throbbing heat of his touch. They spun around another corner in the mostly unlit museum as she began fumbling for his belt. The sound-proofing architecture would ensure no one heard them. She opened her eyes to do so, struggling to see with Heren trying his very best to get to her breasts, when she noticed for the first time that they were not alone.

She froze and turned to stare at the strange assortment of people standing around a large, black ring. There were seven figures standing around an eighth prostrate on the floor. Those that stood looked tall and strong, each covered in the most outlandish techno-punk armor she'd ever seen, bristling with guns and looking like something out of a silly photoplay.

The one on the ground looked even more outlandish—a girl in fantastical armor. A golden breastplate and placard covered her chest and stomach, with a cuisse and greaves covering much of her legs and joined vambraces covering her forearms. However, her long blond hair was matted in back with what looked like blood, and more blood was flowing on the floor around her. They were gathered by a large black ring which appeared to have blown its guts across the floor.

Being the only daughter of a Federal Chancellor, Verina did the only reasonable thing she could think of—she screamed as loud as she could and turned to run. She didn't even think about Heren, much less check to see if he followed.

She made it to the main hall, screaming about the rebels which had been on the infochans so much lately, when the rebels in question charged in after her. The whole assembly erupted in panic. The security detail for the Viceroy literally tackled the man and carried him out of the hall while shooting over their shoulders as they ran. Most of the Chancellors' people did the same, except of course for Verina's father, who saw his daughter running toward him and refused to leave until she was safe.

Unfortunately, that proved his undoing. All around them, bullet-proof security walls slammed down with resounding thuds. The rebels in their odd armor began shooting weapons that spat out bursts of blue light which wrapped up each of the security detail in a web of energy before they fell. Worse, as well trained as the security detail was, the rebels somehow moved faster and aimed better, because in seconds all twenty members of Verina's father's security detail was on the ground, unmoving and, as far as Verina knew, dead.

The rebels began shouting their gibberish language, but their intent was clear enough. The sixty or so government officials and their families that did not escape were gathered together in the center of the room.

"Verina, are you okay?" Father asked.

She nodded and wiped away tears of terror before she turned and saw one of the soldiers dragging the body of Heren into the room. He dropped the boy's head right on Verina's lap. "Stop screaming, girl!" the soldier said.

Only, he didn't speak modern Cartisian. He spoke the ancient dialect, the language still spoken only by the High Zealots of the Circle of Heaven. Throughout the room, everyone stiffened in fear at this confirmation that they were now hostages to the most violent and dangerous religious sect of rebels on the planet.

Two more of the soldiers came in carrying the fallen blonde girl on a stretcher. Verina noticed that two of the soldiers were themselves women—though unusually tall and strong ones. That was unusual since the Circle of Heaven firmly believed that a woman's place was in the home, covered from head to toe in order to serve their men. The closest of the women also looked older than the others, with tell-tale wrinkles around her eyes and mouth that her otherwise flawless skin could not hide.

This woman stood and looked over the assembled crowed with narrowed, angry eyes. Despite her gender, Verina had no doubt the woman was the leader. She looked ready to die for her cause.

"Is anyone else hurt?" she asked in the religious dialect.

No one answered, of course. Standing government orders were to not speak to any Zealots engaged in acts of aggression. The woman frowned, obviously not appreciating the silence. "Do you understand me?" she said again.

Verina winced when her father started to stand. As a Chancellor, he was of course exempt from standing rules such as those. "Excuse me?" he said hesitantly in the old tongue, arms raised.

"Please remain seated," the Zealot said coolly.

Verina couldn't help but sigh in relief when her father complied. She loved him deeply, but sometimes the man was braver than he was smart. "Please, I'm obviously the one you want. Keep me, but let the others go."

"What I _want_ is to know if anyone else is hurt."

Verina followed her father's gaze across the fallen bodies of their security detail. "You mean beside them?" he asked.

The rebel sighed and stalked into the middle of the crowd, forcing terrified people to push themselves out of her way until she reached the first fallen man. Kneeling down, she held a hand to his neck. "He's fine, he'll wake up in two hours or so, as will the others." She stood and returned to her original position on the floor before turning to Marin. "So why should I want just you?"

"Well, the Viceroy and the other Chancellors were able to escape. I'm all that's left. I'll stay gladly as your hostage, if you let the others go."

One of the other rebels rushed up to the leader and began whispering in a language Verina could not follow. It was then that Sylvana leaned over and hissed, "What were you doing with Heren?"

Verina stared incredulously at her former friend. "You're asking that now? Really?"

"Did you kiss him, you strumpet?"

"Strumpet? You arrogant whore, don't you…"

"Excuse me, children," the Rebel said loudly. "Please do us all a favor and shut up."

A loud static sound filled the hall, followed a moment later by a voice. " _This is Lourdes Maylay. I am a member of the Council security detail. I would like to talk to whoever is in charge."_

The rebel woman motioned to one of her large, burly and armored soldiers who stepped into the midst of the terrified civilians until he reached one of the fallen, unconscious guards. He removed a small hand-held radio and walked it over to the leader.

She examined it with an arched brow. "I have no idea how this thing works. Does it have buttons?"

"What kind of rebel doesn't know how to use a radio?" Verina asked.

"What kind of hostage gets into a fight over a boy while being held at gunpoint?" the leader snapped back. "You, Chancellor. How do I operate this device?"

Verina's father frowned but kept his hands up. "There's a diode on the side. Cover it to talk."

She did as instructed. "Hello," she said into the radio.

" _Thank you for responding. My name is Lourdes Maylay of the Council security detail. We have a senior negotiator on his way. I'd just like to let you know we're going to do everything in our power to get you what you need."_

The rebel lifted her finger from the diode and looked around the room. One of the other rebels shouted something in their odd, made-up language from the hall leading to the front entrance. Probably a code or something, Verina decided. The woman frowned at whatever he said before regarding first the chancellor, then their fallen blonde comrade.

"Mr. Maylay, there has been a misunderstanding. We are not rebels."

" _Then release the hostages."_

Verina felt a surge of hope when the woman actually seemed to consider it. That hope faded when the rebel shook her head. "I might consider doing that in the right circumstances. However, at the moment the current situation is the safest for all concerned."

" _I doubt the hostages feel that way."_

"Most likely not. The alternative, however, would be far worse. My demands at the moment are quite simple. Make no effort to enter this building or take action against myself or my comrades, and I promise none within the building will be hurt. I will await your senior negotiator."

The woman slipped the radio into her jacket before leaning over the fallen girl. One of the soldiers came and knelt beside her, turning his back to her so she could access the back of his armor. She began rifling through what Verina realized was a back pack, and removed a strip of gauze. With gentle hands, she lifted the blond girl's head and began to wrap it in the gauze. Almost immediately blood began to soak through it.

In the bright lights of the hall, the blood almost looked purple. What the woman did next, however, confused Verina. She attached a small handheld vacuum to a glass vial and began soaking up the girl's blood from every surface. As it pooled, Verina could see that it really was almost a violet color instead of the normal red of human blood.

"Look at the blood," Sylvana whispered. "Is she even human? What kind of rebels are these?"

Another soldier walked back into the room carrying a plastic folding chair. The leader nodded her thanks, took the chair, and sat down facing the hostages. Dark, intelligent eyes latched onto Verina's father.

"What is your name, sir?"

He frowned, obviously expecting her to know him. "I'm Hal Marin, Chancellor of the Rekat District. Please, I'm a member of the Federal Security Council. I alone am enough to force the Viceroy to the table."

"As I said to Mr. Maylay, I'm willing to consider that under the right circumstances," the woman said. "First, I think it only right to introduce myself. My name is Tel'gat Montrose, Secretary of Defense for the Empire of Kheb. I am the civilian head of military forces comprised of over five hundred million soldiers currently engaged in a war that spans over two dozen worlds at any one time. We arrived on your world in error. We had no intention of causing you or your government harm."

Verina fought back a sarcastic laugh at the ridiculous story and hoped her father knew better than to believe it. Fortunately, he did just that. "I understand. You don't want to make your demands to me. But please, I implore you, you are not going to get what you want by hurting people!"

The rebel named Tel'gat regarded him with a flat expression, her legs crossed as if she were sitting for a job interview. "I understand as well. You are obviously very stupid. Is there anyone here who is not stupid?"

"I beg your pardon?" Marin demanded indignantly.

"Chancellor, my six soldiers took down twenty of your guard detail using directed energy weapons. From what my people tell me, you don't even have wireless fidelity capabilities yet. They've already accessed your telecommunications networks on a hardline, and according to that you've managed little more than to lob a few satellites into orbit. So, you're confronted with weapons technology quite literally hundreds if not thousands of years more advanced than anything you've seen before, and are told in a calm and professional manner that we are not of your world, and your first instinct is to dismiss our claims? We all due respect to your office, that is an act of stupidity. Perhaps this senior negotiator will be more reasonable."

"Um, hello?"

Verina rolled her eyes. Her father turned and stared at the museum researcher and hissed. "Be quite!"

"No," Tel'gat said. "Let the man speak. Who are you?"

The man, a thin, weak-looking _phile_ Verina dismissed the first time she met him, stood with both hands up. "My name is Cicero, I'm a researcher here for the museum. I just wanted to say that the negotiator will not be any better, most likely."

Tel'gat regarded him intently. She was a tall, strong looking woman and not what Verina would ever have considered pretty. "And why is that, Mr. Cicero?"

"Well, we're speaking Classical Cartisian. It's a language that is only still used by the zealots of the Circle of Heaven, which has been fighting over being expelled from the Federal Council. It's the language the temples use in praying to the gods. Most of us know it only because we were forced by the council to go to temple as children, but no one speaks it socially. So they won't believe anything you say."

"But you do?"

Cicero shrugged and adjusted his glasses. "You speak it with an accent I've never heard before, and I've studied the origins of our language most of my life. And you're other language is something I've never heard before at all. Did you come through the Chappa'ai?"

Tel'gat nodded calmly.

Cicero made an odd fist-bump gesture. "I knew it! I've suspected as much for years. I've published dozens of papers, even written a book. No one listens. My colleagues think I'm a bit of a joke."

"You are a joke!" Verina said, unable to hold her silence any longer.

"And yet he's the only one here who's actually right," Tel'gat said.

The radio beeped. " _This is Quartus, Chief Negotiation Officer for the Federal Security Council to whomever is in charge. Please respond."_

Tel'gat removed the radio and slipped her finger over the diode. "Hello, Mr. Quartus. Are you authorized to speak on behalf of this Federal Council?"

" _I am."_

"Good. I would like to propose a trade. We have inside with us a Chancellor Marin of the Rekat District. He is an idiot, and has proven himself a liability to our situation. I understand he might be of some value to you, however. I propose you trade yourself for the Chancellor and conduct the negotiations in person."

" _If you release all the hostages…"_

"You will kill us immediately," Tel'gat said in a firm, unarguable tone. "Understand, Mr. Quartus, that I have no desire to harm your people. However, I cannot allow you to harm mine. I am perfectly willing to discuss our issues with you in person, but I will not allow a situation that represents a danger to myself or my people. So, I offer you the Chancellor in return for you coming in here and conducting the negotiation in person. Additionally, I fully encourage you to wear any surveillance equipment you wish openly. If you have video recording equipment that you can carry and which can transmit, I will be glad for you to bring it. If you comply, I give you my personal guarantee that neither you nor the hostages will be harmed."

Verina noted that some of the rebel soldiers didn't look happy with the last, but no one spoke. " _That is a lot to take on a word alone."_

"I understand. Trust is difficult without a common set of easily understood principles. I am willing to trust to a certain degree—allowing you to enter with surveillance equipment, and allowing Chancellor Marin to leave. In return, you will have to trust me that if you comply, no one will be harmed. If you fail to comply, then you will have a chance to see just how effect my people can be. Do we have an agreement, Mr. Quartus?"

" _I need time to discuss this with the Council._ "

"Twenty minutes seems sufficient for such, wouldn't you agree?"

" _Twenty minutes, then._ "

The connection ended. One of the soldiers stepped over, frowning intently and speaking in a deep, powerful voice. Verina strained but simply had no clue what they were saying other than the fact he was upset.

Tel'gat made no sign of budging and stared the hulking soldier down until, with an angry gesture, he walked away again.

"Cicero, my people tell me there is food and drink nearby," Tel'gat said when the exchange was over. "Can you show me?"

"Um, sure," Cicero said. At her gesture, he approached. She stood easily an inch taller than he as the two stepped over to the buffet.

"I'm not leaving without you," Chancellor Marin declared in a quiet but firm voice. "It's obvious that these people aren't rebels, but common thieves. There are only seven of them. If we rise up against…"

The angry soldier must have heard. Verina screamed as the large man grabbed her father by the front of his robe and lifted him up…and up. The scream fell silent as they realized the rebel was holding the chancellor with just one arm a full foot off the ground without showing signs of strain.

"As the Secretary mentioned, you are a foolish man," the soldier said in a deep, powerful voice. "Therefore, I give you this small demonstration. This is power armor I wear—it does not just increase my physical strength and speed, it doubles it entirely. I have on my back a rifle that could bring this entire building down in five shots or less. I am a general of the Empire of Kheb. Even should every person in this room attack me at once, you would all die."

With deliberate slowness, he lowered Marin to the floor and then pushed him back down into a sitting position. "For the sake of those who would be hurt from it, I ask you to curb your lack of intelligence and remain calm and quiet while we rectify this most unfortunate circumstance."

Just then Tel'gat reappeared with Cicero by her side, talking animatedly, while she tasted a filapaste bun. "…best with hot licate in the morning."

Tel'gat appeared to be enjoying the sweet pastry. She held it in one hand while she answered the radio with the other. "Mr. Quartus, you're a timely man. What says your Federal Council?"

" _They have agreed to the exchange with one condition. Currently your colleagues with the Circle of Heaven have occupied the far northern settlement of Alquresh. The Federal Council has authorized me to exchange myself for Chancellor Marin if you can convince your colleagues to call a cease fire so we can evacuate our wounded."_

Tel'gat frowned intently. "Mr. Quartus, that's not an unreasonable request, however it is not one that is within my power. I have absolutely no idea what this Circle of Heaven is, I've never heard of the settlement of Alquresh, and I wouldn't even begin to know who to contact to open a discussion. You're going to have to limit your demands to the here and now, I'm afraid."

She took a bite from the pasty and simply stood waiting until the negotiator responded. " _That puts me in a rather difficult position."_

"You and me both, my , my original offer still stands. I hope your people will agree. The Chancellor is not only stupid, but is in fact rather irritating. I might even let you have his daughter as well, since she is frankly worse."

Verina felt her cheeks flair. Sylvana snickered. "At least she knows trouble when she sees it!"

" _I will need more time."_

"Twenty more minutes, then." Telgat sighed and sat in the plastic chair while Cicero hovered nearby. Everyone jumped when a distant alarm went off, only to go silent moments later. A soldier stepped in carrying a large, ornately decorated cask.

"Um, what are you doing with the Ark of Setesh?" Cicero asked.

Telgat turned to look at the cask, and then did a double-take before rising quickly to her feet. "By the Thrones, Teal'c, is that…?"

The angry soldier from before approached and frowned intently. "Indeed. A Goa'uld bomb. From the size, I would guess at least fifty kilotons."

Telgat turned back to a gaping Cicero. "You had a fifty-kiloton bomb on display in a museum?"

"But…but…that's the Ark of Setesh, a…"

"Setesh was a mad Goa'uld hiding on the planet of your ancestors like the worm he was," Tel'gat said. "My Lady Luna here personally killed him years ago."

"Secretary Tel'gat, this may change things," Teal'c said. "As soon as the Lady Luna finishes healing, she will undoubtedly be able to contact the Akai'kheb. No matter where we are in the galaxy, a ship could be here within five hours. Perhaps knowing we have this weapon will buy us time."

"Oh, he knows where we are."

Verina craned her neck, for this was a new voice she hadn't heard before. She even sat up a little, along with several others, to see the oddly dressed, wounded blonde woman blink and raise a hand weakly.

"Majesty!" Tel'gat cried out, in what was the first open show of emotion any of the hostages had seen. "When you died, I feared the worst!"

"I died again?" the girl asked.

"Indeed," the angry soldier, Teal'c, said. "Your personal shield was down when you exited the Stargate, and a device triggered. A piece of shrapnel pierced your skull and killed you instantly."

"Oh. I suppose that's why I don't remember it. In fact…I…" She paused. "Tel'gat, you look so old. You were…"

"I have been told that when you or the Lady Hermione receive head injuries, you can recover your memories from Kheb itself," Tel'gat said, sounding almost desperate. "Is that true?"

"In so many words," the Lady Luna said. "I'll need to meditate to do so. Help me up, please."

Tel'gat gently aided the seemingly young woman into an upright position. Blood-shot, silver-blue eyes regarded Verina and the civilians without recognition. More assistance had her sitting in the chair, painting slightly. "Is the war over?" she asked in an absent tone.

"The Ori still threaten many worlds, Majesty," Teal'c said gravely.

"The Ori?" The young woman's eyes widened in alarm. "I spoke of the Goa'uld. The Ori are… Oh." The last came out as a whimper. "I must meditate. I can sense Harry's rage and a terrible danger, but I can't…I'm not recovered enough to speak to him. He's coming and he's very upset. He thinks the people here hurt me. I must meditate."

She closed her eyes and then slumped. She would have fallen out of the chair entirely if Teal'c had not caught her and carried her gently back to the stretcher and the bundle of cloth that served as her cushion. Tel'gat stood with new purpose. "Specialist Gail, set up the subspace transmitter. We may be outside of buoy range, but if a Khebbish ship enters the system we should receive a signal."

"Yes, Madam Secretary," the other female soldier said from her corner. She pulled off her own back pack and started removing equipment.

Tel'gat thumped the radio. "Mr. Quartus, I need to speak to you. Are you there?"

" _I am here."_

"Our situation has changed in such a way that endangers not just these hostages, but possibly every man, woman and child that lives on this planet. I want to have a conversation directly with this viceroy of yours, and if you have a chancellor in charge of planetary defense, they should be a part of the conversation as well."

" _The Viceroy does not speak directly to terrorists, ma'am_."

"Will he speak to someone with a fifty kiloton explosive device?"

Silence. And then, _"Do you claim to have such a device?"_

"Your museum man Cicero called it the Ark of Setesh. It is in fact a Goa'uld naquedah bomb capable of annihilating this entire city in a single flash of light. And do you want to know something, Mr. Quartus? This bomb isn't the problem. Because if I don't speak to your viceroy within the next ten minutes your entire world may die. Ten minutes, no negotiations."

"Um, Miss Tel'gat, ma'am?" Cicero said weakly. "The…the young lady is glowing."

Tel'gat turned and looked, and in so doing caused all the hostages, including Verina, to look as well. They could indeed see that the young woman the rebels called "majesty" was encased in a gentle golden glow.

"The Lady Luna is a god, more surely than those which brought your ancestor to this world," Teal'c told the startled museum researcher. "I have personally seen her die before, only to live again with time. In her blood flows an elixir so powerful it has restored life to the dead."

"Secretary Tel'gat, movement in the front of the building," another soldier called. "They're making a move."

"Damn," Tel'gat muttered. "Mentioning the bomb was a risk. General, set up kinetic screens, everyone activate your armor screens. The generator should last for an hour or so. Faregat, have the men evacuate the civilians."

"What…what do you mean?" Chancellor Marin said. "Evacuate us? But we're…"

"You're a civilian representative of a foreign sovereign state," Tel'gat snapped. "We never intended to actually use you as hostages, we simply let your government think so to buy time. Leave now before your own people…"

Five explosions happened simultaneously all around, one sending shattered glass flying inward as a dozen soldiers rappelled into the room from upper-story windows. Dozens more ran through the other doors, all of them with automatic weapons trained on the rebels. They released short, controlled bursts of fire that seemed to spark against the enemy armor but not actually penetrate.

"Do not return fire yet!" Tel'gat shouted over the din. "Fall back to protect the Empress!"

Verina couldn't help but scream as rough hands pulled her back away from the circle of rebels that surrounded the still glowing "empress" of theirs. The fact that the rebels were taking fire without harm and not returning fire made the Council defense forces hesitate, and in the end they settled on a larger perimeter of kneeling, armed men surrounding the small group of rebels.

Of course, her father as a Chancellor refused to go when it became obvious that things weren't quite done yet. She watched as he approached the stout-bodied older man who was obviously the chief negotiator and walked by his side toward the perimeter.

From within her ring of defenders, Tel'gat regarded him with forced calm. "Well, Mr. Quartus, it wasn't precisely what I had in mind, but you did make it in."

Quartus was obviously not expecting that. "Surrender, and I guarantee you all a fair trial," he said.

"Actually, I'm more concerned with the starship that may be entering your orbit soon," Tel'gat said. "While your friend the Chancellor lacked the capacity to believe me, I represent a fairly large interstellar empire. We arrived here through an act of sabotage—your world was never our intended destination. In the process, the Vice Empress of the Empire of Kheb was severely wounded. Her husband the Emperor believes that you are responsible for her injury, and has likely dispatched a ship here to kill you."

"Killing me won't…"

"Quartus, you misunderstand. By you, I mean your entire world. The Emperor of Kheb may be fair and just, but he is utterly without mercy to his enemies and wildly protective of his family. If he believes you injured his wife, we will not stop until all life on this planet has been obliterated from orbit—you'll never even see his face. So, I suggest you allow us to finish establishing our communications equipment so that we can let him know the Vice Empress was not harmed at your hands, and in return you and your entire race get to live. Seems fair, wouldn't you say?"

Quartus narrowed his eyes. "I think this charade has gone on long enough. Lower your weapons and surrender, or you will be killed."

"Let me talk to him, dear."

Even from across the hall, Verina could see Tel'gat sigh with obvious relief as she turned and saw the blond empress sitting up again. "Are you well, Majesty?"

"I'm better. I at least remember what decade we're in, so I am making progress." She stood, a little unsteadily, and Tel'gat rushed to aid her. Her oddly fantastical armor carried a faint glow to it.

She looked around at Quartus, Marin and the ring of soldiers and though her face looked like that of a teen, she spoke as if she were a grandmother. "Well, I must say this isn't the way the Empire prefers to engage in First Contacts. I'm sorry for any harm or fear caused by our arrival. I am Luna, Vice Empress of Kheb. I bring you greetings from the Empire, and wishes for peace and prosperity. If you lower your weapons, we will do likewise, and hopefully we can open a dialogue."

"You are rebel Zealots of the Circle of Heaven," Quartus responded sharply. "This ridiculous charade will not do you or your followers any good. Surrender now, and as I promised your cohort, you will be given fair trials."

The seemingly young woman reached up and removed the blood-soaked bandages from her head, revealing equally bloody hair but no obvious wounds. She glanced back up, then around as she studied the nearly fifty soldiers surrounding them. She then locked eyes with Quartus as, abruptly, every Council soldier simply fell over, all at once.

Quartus stumbled back in alarm, while Marin simply gaped. "Let me reiterate. I am Her Divine and Eternal Majesty, the Lady Luna, Vice Empress of the Empire of Kheb." The air above her began to shimmer until a circle of blue flame appeared over her head. Quartus almost fell as he stumbled backward, and by now even Marin was backing up quickly.

"While our presence on this world was an error," Luna continued, now shimmering with a bright golden glow, "we remain Empress. We would welcome you as our friends, but if you strike at us, we will obliterate you as our enemy. However, that should not be your concern. For as dangerous as we could be as an enemy, our true enemies are even worse. And I'm afraid they will arrive before even my husband."

Behind her, Tel'gat hissed. "Majesty, you mean…"

"The Ori have come," Luna said darkly. "And the Orici is with them. This world, it would seem, is a trap. I'm just not sure for whom."


	59. Urgency

A/N: Chap 58 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifty-Nine: Urgency**

Admiral Edvard Chalmas of the IKF Heavy Cruiser _Victorex_ sat at his command station toward the rear starboard side of the command deck, his adjutant standing nearby awaiting any orders he might need to give in person.

While there was no central viewer on the command deck, each station had multiple monitors that provided their officers with the information necessary to do their jobs. The deck was, after all, more of a Command and Control center than what the Goa'uld used to call a Pel'tak. There was no throne for their god to sit on, nor any of the trappings to make such a god feel superior or at home. Instead, the Command Deck was comprised of slightly sunken ship stations off each side of a raised catwalk, each station housing two on-duty officers. Overhead, monitors, piping and various other systems created a low ceiling that civilians often found oppressive, but which Chalmas and all true Navy spacers found comforting.

This wasn't a luxurious space yacht, this was a ship of war. The only open spaces on the _Victorex_ were those dedicated to the housing and movement of soldiers and machinery.

From his elevated station Chalmas could see each man and woman in his command crew—each handpicked with letters of recommendation from Commandant Bra'tac. There could be no less for the Emperor's flagship.

Rather than extraneous and unnecessary visuals of the planet Adalaid III, the Captain's monitors displayed a wire-frame composite of the planet with labelled dots representing the various distributions of the _Victorex's_ battalion of 5000 soldiers. The tactical display provided equal positions for the other heavy cruisers, the six smaller assault corvettes and the two tenders that orbited the world.

"Con, adjust course, Z-plus 2000 meters for debris." Commander Hendrick's tone was calm and assuring. She was Terran by birth but moved to Kalmah after Earth's destruction. Chalmas had no doubt the woman would have her own command within five years. "Weapons control signal weapons hot, fire when ready. Remove that piece of trash from my sky, please, Lieutenant Kalar."

"Signaling weapons hot, gun control reports ready for fire," the fire controller reported.

The ringing burst of energy from one of the starboard emitters echoed through the command deck. "Gun control reports good hit, debris vaporized."

Another vestige of the Ori's invasion of this world was gone. Chalmas smiled with satisfaction.

The Battle of Adalaid III lasted two weeks on the ground, but the orbital engagement was over in twenty minutes once engaged. The trick to destroying the admittedly terrifying Ori cruisers was simply to stay behind them. The ships were doctrine-bound to be able to only fire forward within a 180 degree arc of their single, overwhelming beam emitter.

The two Imperial heavy cruisers entered orbit directly facing the tightly packed formation of three Ori cruisers, disgorged their fighter complement, and then engaged in a slug-fest with their Ancient-designed beam weapons against the Ori-designed beam weapons, their powerful multi-phasic shielding against the Ori-made multiphasic shielding.

Meanwhile, the two destroyers and six corvettes that composed the rest of the fleet emerged from hyperspace ten thousand meters behind and twelve degrees higher in orbit than the Ori battlegroup and unleashed hell.

It was a comment on just how tough and ferocious the enemy ships were that even with a clearly superior tactic, the Empire of Kheb still lost a destroyer and a corvette, not to mention nearly a dozen fighters and assault shuttles. Still, in a war that had seen all too many stalemates, a clear victory was a relief.

Fleet Intelligence reported multiple Priors on the planet. It was the only reason why the Holy Emperor and his Most Holy Companion, the Blessed Hermione, were both on the ship. As they had always done, the two proved once again why their soldiers adored them so and led the battle against the Ori forces on the planet personally.

That fight took two weeks. Two weeks of fighter strafing, armored transports and tanks pushing back against the fanatical forces of the Ori, until finally the last Prior fell and the last Ori soldiers died.

Picket ships and relief tenders were scheduled to arrive within two days, at which time the battlegroup would continue on to the next Ori incursion. It had been this way almost none-stop in the years since the war began.

"Admiral," Hendricks said. "Signal from the surface. _Khebs_ are en route."

Chalmas had little time to process that when the Emperor and Empress appeared with a thunderous clap and a sensor alarm reporting air displacement in the command deck. They must have used their personal teleportation methods to come directly from the transport room.

The command staff stood to attention.

"Resume your station," the Emperor said. He spoke harshly. Even if he was turned away from the admiral, Chalmas could see a tell-tale flicker of flame about his head as he walked stiff-legged toward their navigation station. The two officers there snapped back to their feet and stood to stiff attention, obviously fighting to control their fear at the rage that emanated from the Akai'kheb.

The Emperor took one of their stations without word and began searching coordinates. The Empress Hermione stood, her arms crossed over her chest, head bowed. Hesitantly, Chalmas approached her.

"Majesty, may I be of assistance?"

She blinked and turned to stare. He felt a moment of shock when he saw her eyes were red with unshed tears. She forced a smile for his sake alone. "Admiral, how long would it take to do an emergency recall of all men and material from the surface?"

Chalmas considered the various reports and scenarios they developed for just such an event. "If we wish to recover all materiel and equipment, a day at least. Just men and personal armaments? Three hours."

"Get as much as you can in one hour," the Empress said. She did not raise her voice or stress the words, but nonetheless he could see the intensity in her eyes. "Please convey the same orders to the _Sovereign_ and the _Erid_.They will accompany us, the rest of the battle group will remain until the relief tenders arrive. Executive priority, Admiral."

Chalmas saluted. "Majesty."

He turned and rushed back to his station to issue the orders. He purposely ignored the Emperor's search through their navigational systems. Within twenty minutes the four transport rooms of the _Victorex_ , and the similar rooms on the other heavy cruiser _Sovereign_ were bringing up soldiers and material _._ He had no doubt the smaller _Erid_ was recalling its much smaller cadre of men and fighter wings. It would have carried no heavy equipment, though. Assault and transport shuttles and fighters were already on their way back.

The entire hour, the Empress stood quietly in the center of the deck, arms folded about her chest and a distant look on her striking face, while the Emperor searched with silent determination through their records.

As their deadline approached, the Empress sighed. "She's awake, Harry."

As if they were not surrounded by officers, the Emperor nodded from where he had not stirred at all over the navigation consoles. "I can feel it. And now I have her, I can find her coordinates."

The Empress turned to the Chalmas. "Admiral, what is our status?"

"We've recovered all combat personnel and forty-five percent of our combat materiel. All fighters are recovered and we have two transports in route and five about to relaunch."

The Emperor stood abruptly, his face stony and his tone cool and professional. "Forty-five percent in an hour? Well done, Admiral. Belay further launches. Recover the remaining shuttles and then get us and our escorts into hyperspace. I've entered coordinates into navigation."

Chalmas saluted. "Yes, Majesty. The shuttles should be recovered within ten minutes. Navigation estimates a flight time of eighty-two minutes at full power to reach these coordinates."

"Thank you, Admiral," Hermione said with a nod.

"Admiral," the Emperor said. "Have Colonel Aldine meet me in the troop bay."

"He'll be there, Majesty."

Hermione waited a moment for Chalmas to issue the order to the commanding officer of the army soldiers on board before motioning toward the secure communications suite. "We need to contact High Command before we get underway," she said.

"Of course, Majesty."

He followed her into the ready room that also served as the only secure communications station on the command deck. He'd barely stepped inside before the Empress entered personal command codes that instantly opened quantum communications with High Command on Kalmah. Given whose codes they were, in did not surprise Chalmas when the 3-D screens revealed the Chief of State.

"Hermione," Ishta said, speaking with a familiarity Chalmas would never have dared. "We've lost touch with the Minister of Defense and her party. I also just received word of an emergency evacuation from Adalaid III. I'm assuming you're in contact with the Lady Luna?"

"They never made it to Argindaux," Hermione said. "We don't know what happened, only that she received a lethal head injury. She's since revived and recovered consciousness briefly, but she remains badly hurt. When she woke, Harry was able to get a good read on her location, we'll be underway shortly."

Chalmas struggled to keep his face blank at the terrifying news. One of the Holy Companions was hurt?

"Do you think this is enemy action?" Ishta asked. "Teal'c and Tel'gat were both with her."

"We don't know, but Harry and I both feel grave danger. Contact Admiral Gaspar to have a relief force standing by for emergency deployment just in case. Please let Daniel know."

"We will," the Chief of Staff said. "While my husband lives, Luna will face no danger until she is strong enough to destroy it herself."

"I know, Ishta. We'll be in contact as soon as we arrive from Hyperspace."

"Very well."

The call ended. Chalmas released an explosive breath—he couldn't help it. "Majesty, is…what can I do?"

"You've done all you can, Admiral," Hermione said. She spoke with a brittle, delicate calm. "Please get us underway. The Emperor is letting the soldiers know to prepare for possible combat."

"Yes, Empress! By your leave?"

She nodded dismissal. He left her alone to her thoughts in the room and within five minutes the ship was under way.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

In his twenty years with the Fleet, Admiral Chalmas had come to understand just how many non-aligned worlds there were. The Goa'uld Empire was vast and mighty, but the Goa'uld themselves moved with the glacial speed of immortality. They didn't bother with concerted exploration. They took what they wanted when they wanted it, and ignored everything else.

More importantly, the Goa'uld simply forgot whole worlds. They would seed and then abandon civilizations, confident that they could retake the worlds with little effort centuries or even millennia later.

The world that the Akai'kheb directed them to must have been such a world, since it bore nothing more than a catalogue number. "Ten minutes out, Admiral," Navigation called.

The Emperor had returned to the command deck and stood beside his wife. The Imperials looked no older than the recruits fresh out of the academy—younger, even. However, they moved and spoke like Chalmas' father. They bore their decades in their minds, if not their bodies.

Both stood stiffly now. "Admiral, signal combat stations," the Emperor abruptly announced. "We're going to have company."

Chalmas nodded to Hendricks. "Sound combat stations. Fire control, signal hot insertion point. Shield control, as soon as we drop from hyperspace switch from deflector to combat shielding. Flight Ops, signal all wings to stand by."

Hendricks issued the orders calmly, her hands behind her back as she walked over the catwalk to personally oversee the stations. The Emperor turned toward Chalmas, while the Lady Hermione quickly left the bridge.

"Admiral, I sense we're going to face a significant force. As soon as we revert, get as many soldiers on the surface as you can. You'll know where just by where the Ori forces are landing. Hermione and I will be accompanying our men to the surface. Launch everything, holding nothing back. If you have to withdraw, make them bleed but do not risk the ship unless absolutely necessary."

Chalmas nodded intently. "We'll make them bleed, Majesty."

The Emperor smiled grimly before catching Chalmas' shoulder. "I know, Edvard. Bra'tac told me thirty years you'd go far. He's yet to prove me wrong."

With that, the Emperor strode out of the Command Deck. Chalmas pulled up all tactical screens while echoing the emperor's orders through Quantum link to their sister-ship the _Sovereign_ , and their lone destroyer escort, _Erid._

"Sixty seconds to reversion," Navigation called.

"Twenty seconds to reversion."

"Ladies, gentlemen," Chalmas said. "The Akai'kheb is with is. Whatever awaits, we will be victorious."

The swirling blue of hyperspace reverted in a tunnel of streaks to real space. On one of his monitors, their sensors built a wire-frame model of a beautiful garden world. The proximity alarms went off the moment the sensors detected the three separate battle groups of three Ori destroyers each.

"Deploy all fighters and shuttles," Hendricks said, having to shout over the alarms. "Fighters are to clear a path for landing craft. Weapons control, we are weapons free, repeat weapons free. All ships…"

Two Ori beam weapons slammed into their forward shields, rocking the _Victorex_ like a child's toy in a bath. The commander didn't stumble, she fell outright into the con station. Fortunately, the two lieutenants were bright enough to turn and catch her. It didn't phase her a bit.

Chalmas, for his part, quickly issued his own orders.

The _Erid_ surged up away from the two heavy cruisers, turned on its left axis to try and climb out of the field of fire of the first Ori grouping, and unleashed its entire complement of hard point. Four hundred missiles ranging from conventional to naquedah-enhanced fusion warheads streamed out of the smaller destroyer, followed by a bevy of beam weapons, all targeting that nearest grouping.

Indescribable energies collided against the shields of the enemy, and with their interphasic torpedoes, through them entirely. The lead ship in the nearest grouping collapsed into the blazing core of the artificial wormhole which powered it. Another took serious damage and lost power.

The third started to lift into position when the combined answering fire of the _Victorex_ and _Erid_ struck. The shields resisted for almost twenty seconds of their combined fire before the ship was destroyed.

In the meantime, three Ori beam weapons streaked through the sky from the next closest Ori battlegroup. The _Erid_ flippedon its ventral axis in a desperate attempt to avoid the beams. The grouping was perfectly spaced, however, making it impossible for the destroyer to avoid all three shots. Two struck on both the fore and after of the ship.

Three more beams fire from the third Ori battlegroup struck the center of the paralyzed ship just seconds later. The _Erid_ disappeared in a cloud of vapor.

"Fighters away," Hendricks called. "Assault shuttles away."

On his monitor, Chalmas noted _Sovereign_ had also managed a quick emergency launch. They were still beaming down soldiers and needed more time.

He issued orders to their sister ship. Hendricks saw his orders on her own wrist-monitor and met his eyes squarely a moment before nodding. "Con, flank speed, target the rear most of the planet-side battle group. Weapons, target the rear-most enemy vessel of the planet-side group and fire all weapons, energy and hard point. Hold nothing back!"

On his tactical, Chalmas saw the _Sovereign_ surge ahead toward the rear-most of their assigned battlegroups. Their past showed the Ori forces were incapable of playing chicken because the idea of dying for their gods did not bother them in the least. The enemy ships would not move.

The whole ship shuttered and cried with exploding conduits and shattered systems as they began taking heavy fire. Chalmas sat with forced calm and watched the status of the beaming rooms, while in his chest his heart thudded painfully.

"Starboard landing pod inoperable, shields failing!" That was the young lieutenant from Hebrides, recommended by Admiral Gaspar, manning the damage control station. Beautiful girl, like Hendricks destined to go far if he didn't get her killed.

The last soldier beamed out. "Commander, now!"

"Con, break off, Z-minus ten thousand, full sublights! Take us under the group! Go! Go!"

Despite the inertial dampening system that kept them all from turning into putty when they accelerated, the Admiral imagined he could feel the ship suddenly dip toward the planet, skimming the bottom of the planet's thermosphere and kicking up sufficient plasma to light their failing shields.

"Take us to half-power hyperspace as soon as we're clear. Rendezvous with _Sovereign_ at the following…"

"Admiral," Hendricks said. The whole ship shuttered as they jumped haltingly into hyperspace.

Chalmas, though, knew from her tone what she meant. He checked his tactical and sighed sadly. "By Kheb."

Hendricks moved toward his station. As she got closer, he saw she was bleeding profusely from a cut on her forehead. "Starboard pod has multiple hull breaches and we lost shielding. The whole flight crew was lost when we jumped. We lost the starboard beam emitters and launch tubes as well. Shield generators are on back up. Hyperdrive is functional but showing warnings across the board."

One of his monitors lit up as they established communications with Fleet. "Admiral Gaspar," he said when the reptilian admiral's face appeared.

"Status?"

"We encountered a heavy Ori presence over the planet the Emperor directed us to," Chalmas reported. "Pursuant to the Emperor's direct orders we remained in orbit long enough to launch fighters and transports and to beam our soldiers to the surface before evacuating. _Sovereign_ and _Erid_ were both lost. We've suffered significant damage to our starboard flight pod. It's unlikely we can recover our people, Admiral."

Perhaps because of his reptilian nature, Chalmas found that Gaspar had the best poker face he'd ever encountered. "Understood, Admiral. I'm sorry for your losses. I've recently been informed that Prince Daniel has gathered a special task force and is en route to the world in question. Stay where you are and make repairs as best you can until further communication. If you do not hear from us within six hours, contact us again."

"Understood, Admiral. Chalmas out."

The quantum entanglement link ended, leaving them alone in the dark. Chalmas sighed. "You have the con, Hendricks. I'll see to our ship."

"Are you sure, Edvard?"

"Yes, Karen. It was my decision to hold us as long as we did to get those last men on the surface. The least I owe these brave souls is to acknowledge that responsibility." He smiled at her, and then thinking of the Emperor, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder before turning to see about his grim duties.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

The _Victorex_ carried a crew of 2,483 men and women from all over the Empire. They were only able to recover three hundred and forty-nine bodies out of the seven hundred who died. Chalmas walked along the lines of bodies laid out across the troop bays. The repair crews hadn't even had a chance to bag them yet.

Most were blackened husks whose remains would have to be identified with DNA tags. Some were identifiable. All of them were young, so terribly young. Another two hundred crowded their med bays, some laid out in the halls awaiting triage. It was the worst shellacking Chalmas had ever been a part of.

His wrist com pinged at him. "Admiral to the bridge."

Hendricks wouldn't have summoned him if it wasn't important. He found himself jogging to the nearest lift down into the heart of the ship where the Command Deck resided.

He walked in to find Karen at his station, her cut already bandaged. She stood quickly when she saw him. "The admiral is here."

Chalmas nodded to her and sat and found himself facing His Highness, the Prince of Kheb. "Highness?" he asked.

Prince Daniel looked old enough to be the father of the Tripartite, despite being their son. "Admiral, Gaspar informed me of your losses. We have reason to believe that the planet you found is of the highest tactical importance to the Ori, high enough that Fleet Intelligence has seen massive ship movement. We're doing the same. I know you're hurt, but we're going to need you. My fleet should reach your coordinate in ten minutes. At that time, you're to assume stations with us where we will proceed to the planet mpw designated Nogtiri IV."

"Acknowledged, Highness. Sublights and hyperdrives are operational, we'll be ready."

"Good, Admiral. This is going to be a day that will go down in history."

The admiral terminated the connect. "We're not combat ready," Karen noted.

"We'll have to be," Chalmas said. "Sound general quarters. We'll do what we can with what we have. The Akai'kheb would expect no less."

Commander Hendricks nodded before leaving his station to begin barking orders in a hoarse, exhausted voice.


	60. Alien Invasion

A/N: Chap 59 reviews are in my forum. Based on waning interest and reviews, I've decided to go ahead and post the rest of the chapters. The story will finish at 62 chapters and a short epilogue. Please continue reading until finished.

Thank you.

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty: Alien Invasion**

Verina tried not to scream when the rear of the museum her father spent four years fighting to pay for exploded in a billow of dust, flame and shrapnel. She'd seen explosions on the state broadcasts from the ongoing conflicts with the Circle of Heaven in the north, but those seemed to be distant, abstract things.

She remembered the many times her father somberly told her that people were dying in the north, but that again just seemed distant, abstract.

Now, though, as a wave of concussive force slammed into her back and threw her into her father to send both tumbling to the ground, she realized there was nothing abstract or distant about an explosion.

Her back felt as if she'd been pummeled with fists. Her ears rang through what felt a soft layer of foam—as if her whole head was wrapped up so that the world around her sounded distant, while the ringing was immediate and loud. One of the alien soldiers grabbed her by the back of her dress and lifted her back to her feet, yelling something that she could barely even hear, much less understand.

Her father pulled himself up with wide eyes. She noted a smear of blood trickled down his cheek from above his hairline. Was he hurt? She tried asking the question, but he merely shook his head, took her hand, and started them running again.

The whole situation seemed utterly surreal. From the moment the white-headed alien woman made all of Quartus's mean faint, to when the terrifying albino man in a woman's robes and a staff arrived and fought the white-headed woman with fire and lightening, it seemed as if she were caught in one of the day dramas on Sylvana's favorite info chan.

Sylvana was dead.

Verina stumbled again as the brittle, bitter memory of her best friend's face flashed before her eyes, playing loudly inside the foam that insulated her head against the world. The way her eyes widened and her mouth made a silent "Oh", as if she was surprised but not particularly hurt when the new alien's laser beam burned a whole through her chest. Heren screamed something before another laser burned his head in half, but Verina could only absorb one horror at a time, and watched as the girl she'd grown up with; the friend she'd spent so many sleepovers with; the rival she enjoyed competing so much against, died with a silent "Oh" at the hands of an invading alien army.

The first aliens and the white-headed woman stepped forward and joined Quartus's remaining men and fought the attacking aliens back until the albino came. The albino was just as terrifying as anything she'd seen. At a gesture of his staff, the entire front wall of the Museum ripped away, as if a giant hand had grabbed it and thrown it into the sky.

The strange woman who called herself Empress stepped forward with oddly purple blood still matting her hair and a white laser-sword in hand, and engaged the albino in a terrible battle. He conjured fire from his staff and she responded with lightening. The air shimmered around him in a protective shield while she moved faster than the eye could follow.

The museum crumbled under the forces they unleashed. The alien woman Tel'gat shouted for all forces to retreat, and Verina gave credit to Quartus that he was terrified enough to obey and convey the same orders to his men. Verina caught one glimpse of that bookish man, Cicero, screaming like a woman himself as they fled. For how epic and destructive the fight was, however, it lasted less than a minute before the Empress blurred forward and with a storm of lightning tore down the albino man's magical shield before removing his head with her sword.

She stumbled toward them as the headless body went up in flame. "We need to find a more defensible spot. Quartus?"

The poor man visibly shook himself from his shock. "Yes, yes. This way!"

He led them out the back of the museum. Verina stayed by her father's side, easily within earshot of the two alien women. She overheard Luna say, "I'm not fully recovered, that was much harder for me than it should have been. Tel'gat, any word from my husband?"

Tel'gat paused in answering as they shuffled out of the door into the rear gardens where some of the largest artifacts were displayed. "We lost contact while you were fighting, but we received a notice that the _Victorex, Sovereign_ and _Erid_ arrived and engaged against superior forces in order to allow the Akai'kheb and his forces to land. They should be arriving soon."

Verina didn't understand what that meant until Luna made a point of looking up. In the midst of Federal City, they shouldn't have been able to see any but the brightest stars and the second moon. But as she glanced up, with her hearing clearing out, she saw a brilliant, terrifying flash of white light almost directly overhead.

"Majesty?" Tel'gat asked.

" _Sovereign_ ," Luna said with a tired, sad sigh. "They lingered long enough to get the troops away. Harry and Hermione have beamed down, they're very close."

Beside her, her hand still in his, she felt her father stiffen. "By the Circle!" he whispered. She saw how he looked at Quartus, and she saw the way the other man stared back with wide-eyes and gaping lips.

The silent communion was interrupted by the alien woman with the stunning white-yellow hair. "Chancellor Marin, Chief Quartus, as I've told you, your world unfortunately has become a battleground. The attacking forces are the Ori. They are a fanatical race that will slaughter anyone who does not follow their faith. My family and I oppose them. We've landed troops and some armament nearby, but our main goal is to save as many of your people as we can while denying the Ori their goal."

"Which is?" Quartus demanded.

"The indoctrination and enslavement of your world," Tel'gat answered for the Empress. "The typical civilian losses for any world captured by the Ori is better than sixty percent. Three-fifths of your entire population will die if we can't stop them."

"If we're to have any chance, we must coordinate our forces," Luna said. "My husband is nearby. When we reach him, we will need you to facilitate contact between our force and your own."

Before they could answer, a squadron of defenders soared overhead. The Federal _Akhom_ fighters shattered the brittle silence with a thunderous roar. Verina could see a dozen in the dusky light of the dying day, obviously flying in from Alamet Air Force Base on the edge of the city.

Missiles seared out from underneath their fierce, rear-swept wings toward three alien ships in roughly oval shapes. The three ships were actually smaller than the _Akhom_ , but could move as slow as a rotor sky ship or faster than the fastest craft. The missiles did not even come close to the three ships, abruptly flying off course as if something interfered with their guidance systems.

The enemy ships responded by spitting out small streaks of white-blue light in rapid order. When such a light touched an _Akhom_ , the fighter evaporated in a billow of flame. Those that were not hit directly spun out of control and crashed in the city below.

Which just happened to be where they were.

"MOVE!" the alien Empress shouted. In a heartbeat, Verina saw why. Moments later, after the defending fighter crashed into the museum and blew the back wall over their group and left her back pummeled and her ears ringing, her father held her hand and they ran with the rest toward some imagined point of safety in the distance.

Even as they ran, Verina saw a new aircraft zip into the skies over their head. This one didn't fire missiles, but instead spat out a similar white beam to what the bad aliens used. The beam seared the air over their heads with a high-pitched hum and the smell of ozone, and abruptly one of the Ori fighters died in the same type of fire they used to destroy the defenders. The two remaining fighters responded instantly, only for a second one to die. Overhead, the new alien craft surged past a bolt of light that came from the ground, spitting the same type of energy at the Ori that the Ori used against the Federal fighters. The third fighter exploded just like the first two.

The new alien craft flew in a tight circle, then abruptly dipped up and flared its engines to gain altitude when three more Ori fighters struck it at once, destroying it utterly.

"We need to keep moving!" The Empress's voice was barely audible over the whump-thuds of more explosions.

They were joined by more than just the group at the museum. It was a one of the four holy days of their month, which meant crowds were out in the streets when the chaos started. Many likely were there trying to watch the drama around the museum. Now they all tried to flee without any clear direction on where to go. All around them, terrified people ran on foot or tried to get away in their conveyances, both ensuring neither attempt could move freely. The press of people was so great it was all Verina could do to keep a hold of her father's hands.

Still, with the alien soldiers and Quartus' brave men surrounding them like the shell of an egg, they pushed through the gardens around the museum until abruptly they reached an impenetrable crowd of people who simply would not move.

Over their heads, she saw why. The turret looked like that of a Federal heavy assault vehicle, except it didn't have a borehole like an HAV would. Instead, the turret had what looked almost like a crystal. The rest of the turret bristled with odd weapons as well. When the Ori fighters turned and flew toward them, the turret tracked their movements far faster than any Federal HAV could have managed and fired a powerful burst of energy. Behind it, out of Verina's view, more bursts of energy fired.

As close as they were, the release of energy sounded like an electrical transformer exploding. The passage of the blast pulled the air from her lungs and made the hair on her arms stand on in. All around her, people ducked or fell to the ground with terrified screams that were momentarily drowned out by the weapon, unable to comprehend the sheer violence of it all.

She glanced over her shoulder to see a burst of white-hot fire that flared almost like a firework in the middle of an Ori formation, burning one fighter into vapor and sending the other two plummeting with smoking contrails to the ground.

"Council security!" Quartus shouted over the screaming crowds. "Council security! All civilians keep moving! These aliens will not hurt you, keep moving now!"

Verina could see that the very human-looking aliens in fact were frantically waving for the civilians to move, but most spoke only the alien language. At Quartus frantic shouts, though, the people realized what the motions entailed and began moving in the direction the aliens motioned them toward. Some of the aliens were dressed not much differently than Quartus own soldiers—tactical gear and hand-held weapons.

Some, though, wore the exoskeleton armor those in the museum wore. It was one of these that waded through the terrified civilians. "Empress! Majesty! Are you there?"

"Over here!" Luna's voice suddenly boomed through the crowd, so impossibly loud people jerked painfully away. It created an open corridor which the armored soldier took immediate advantage of.

"Thank the Thrones!" the man said. He spoke the Ancient Tongue. "Captain Martek, 2nd Armored Battalion. The Akai'kheb has set up a mobile command station nearby. Come!"

More of the armored alien soldiers fell in around them, encircling Quartus' nervous soldiers. Still, with so much weaponry around them Verina felt a little safer as they made better time through a line of three alien…tanks? Battle craft? She had no idea what to call them. They were far sleeker than anything the Council could make, with gently curved lines made of a silver-blue metal. The turrets moved constantly looking for threats.

Behind the tanks they moved past a line of strange devices in the shape of three-meter-high fence posts, but which bristled with crystals and circuitry like out of the wildest fantasy info chan. They were set every ten meters as far as she could see, forming a curve behind which…

They were walking toward a restaurant. Not just any restaurant, but Dgingi's, where she and Sylvana would sometimes skip school to eat when they were…

Verina stopped the thought with a vicious shake of her head and a hand to wipe away a tear. Inside, alien soldiers bustled about over odd stands that she could only assume were computers of some kind. What surprised her was the young couple that seemed to be in the middle of it. The man stood half a head shorter than her father, with black hair and pale skin. He wore an unarmored tactical uniform like many of the soldiers, but with the insignia of a crown bisected by three swords at his left breast.

The woman was pretty but not extraordinarily so—long hair a shade between the man's and the Empress Luna's. She too was pale, with a well-defined jaw and concerned brown eyes. Both of them looked up at the very moment Luna entered the room, and both were in motion not even half a heart-beat later.

Verina felt her cheeks flare, and in fact the entire room fell silent with the sheer, sensual heat the man produced when he kissed Luna. What made her father sputter, though, was when the other young woman did the same thing.

They didn't speak. She half expected them to start spouting the things that lovers do when separated. Instead they simply stared at each other in intense silence until all three turned to stare at her father.

She felt him stiffen beside her under the intense attention. The man stepped forward. "Chancellor Marin?"

"I am."

"I am Harry Potter, Emperor of the Khebbish Empire. And until our relief fleet arrives, a resident of your planet. I have ten thousand troops, fifty…"

"Thirty two," the unnamed young woman said, interrupting him. "We're taking heavy losses in the air."

He frowned, but not at the interruption, Verina thought.

"Right. Thirty two fighters, plus the three tanks you saw in passing. We've set up a shield perimeter that hopefully will give us cover. We believe we are facing at least fifty thousand enemy soldiers who believe that if they die killing their enemies they will ascend to godhood. For the record, anyone who does not worship their gods is an enemy. Likely that number will grow into the millions as they continue to reinforce. If we have any hope of protecting your citizens I will need clear communication with your military."

Quartus stepped forward. "I can help you."

"You are Quartus, the negotiator?"

"I'm actually the Director of Federal Security," Quartus said.

"That's correct, he heads our security directorate," Marin agreed. "We…we thought your people were terrorists."

The Emperor didn't appear to care. "Who's in charge of your response to this?"

"In the absence of any Chancellor, I am," Quartus said.

"Come on, then." The Emperor led Quartus further into the restaurant.

"Majesty, four Priors!"

Verina didn't know who announced it, but the Emperor stopped. "Hermione? Luna?"

"I'm still weak," Luna admitted. "It was a struggle to kill just one."

"Go Harry, I'll work with Quartus," the second Empress said. Two wives. Verina tried to wrap that around her mind as Potter rushed out of the restaurant. Verina looked at her father, but suddenly she decided to follow. She couldn't have said why, only that after watching Luna fight she wanted—almost needed—to know what this Harry Potter could do.

"Verina!" her father called.

She ignored him and ran out of the restaurant until she arrived at a line of soldiers in armor stood just inside the picket posts. Where before they were just posts, now they shimmered with a scintillating blue field of energy. Somehow, the emperor had passed right through them and was running toward not just one, but four separate albinos. _Priors_ , she now knew to call them.

"I don't understand what they are," she whispered.

She nearly jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Luna at her side. It felt odd to note she was taller than the alien empress. From this angle, she could see the flecks of drying blood in her white-blond hair.

"They are Priors," Luna said. "The Ori are ascended beings—creatures of fire and energy who evolved from the corporeal bodies of one of the first races in this galactic cluster. The Ori themselves are held back by the Ancients whom we serve. Instead, the Ori will take volunteers or prisoners and burn out their very souls, leaving their bodies as empty husks to carry a spark of the Ori's power. Only myself, my family, or those few we've trained, can hope to fight them."

"They were people?"

"Once. Now they are living weapons, without any volition of their own."

The four terrifying beings raised glowing staffs and unleased terrible energy toward the Emperor—fire and lightening and beams of white light. Harry Potter blinked away, only to reappear directly above the four Priors. Verina cried out in alarm when the air beneath him exploded in a nearly solid cloud of blue lightening a thousand times more powerful than what Luna generated.

The four Priors were crushed to the ground. One's staff exploded while another snapped in half. They never even had a chance to get a second attack—Potter destroyed them so utterly nothing remained but their ashes after all four ignited in flame. He did so in five seconds from the time left the shield wall.

"Circle's light," he father cursed. He'd come after her and caught the end of the battle.

"Yes, Harry's much more powerful than Hermione and I," Luna said, as if he'd merely asked a question. "Unfortunately, the Orici may be his equal, and is likely on this world as well."

"Orici?" Verina remembered hearing the term earlier, in the museum.

"The war we wage is a proxy war," Luna said. "The Ori and the Ancients. While Priors are dangerous, they are…predictable. By removing their Will and Volition, the Ori also stripped them of their ability to think, anticipate and improvise. While a single Prior could kill your whole planet, they've yet to defeat any of the Imperial Family or the knights we've trained. And so, just as the Ancients cultivated my husband's power into such that he could be their champion in this plane, the Ori did the same. The Orici, Amhar, is the chosen of the Ori. If they are both on this world, then it is likely they will have no choice but to fight. We're going to have to evacuate as many of your people away as we can, Chancellor. We're going to need your help."

As they stood speaking, a thick streak of white light lashed down from the heavens. The beam struck somewhere on the far side of the city, where Verina guessed the airfield would have been. The resulting explosion threw a small mushroom cloud into the air, almost like a nuclear weapon.

"You'll have it," her father vowed then, eyes wide as he watched the Federal City die. "Anything I can do!"

The Emperor walked back through the shields. The soldiers around him saluted but said nothing; Verina noted how his men stood straighter when he returned their salutes, and even patted one man's shoulder plates.

"Come with me," he told those waiting for him.

Verina turned with her father. She caught movement in the sky overhead, but the objects were too small to see clearly. Once inside the restaurant, she stumbled when she saw the whole city laid out in an impossible glowing display. The detail was so intense she could even see their estate near the Federal Dome.

The display even showed fighters in the skies overhead. Most appeared to be red, but several were blue. She guessed just from the numbers on the ground that the red dots were the Ori forces.

The other Empress was speaking to Quartus when they arrived. "…ground. Their weapons are powerful, but the Ori forces are bound by doctrine. No body shields, only staves and hand weapons. That means small arms fire will kill them. They did start deploying ground armament in the last year, but it's a minor part of their tactics. Mostly they're infantry and air support."

" _So you're saying our men on the ground have a chance?_ "

The voice came from a speaker to the right, and Verina recognized it as General Lation, the head of their military under the civilian leadership of Quartus.

"That's correct," the Empress said. "But their air suppression is superior, not just to yours but with so little fighters left, ours as well. We've lost more than half of our fighters since we engaged and we have every reason to believe their reinforcements will arrive first."

"Who are we speaking with?" Harry demanded as he arrived.

"We're on with General Lation, commander of the Federal security forces," Quartus explained. "Lation, I'm speaking to the Emperor of Kheb, Harry Potter."

" _Majesty._ "

"General. We've just deployed recon drones and I'm sorry to say that the Ori have already destroyed your air force and army bases. Have you been able to get any men out?"

" _Less than five thousand. They've engaged the enemy as best they can_."

"General, this is Empress Luna, might I suggest that you instead deploy your men to help evacuate the city? Your numbers are not sufficient to hold back the Ori, but are sufficient to save your civilians."

"I would agree, General," Quartus said. "As much as it pains me to admit, our first responsibility must be in getting the civilians to safety."

" _Very well, Director. We have more men and materials en route, but the nearest base is two hours away, and it will take another two to mobilize."_

"Understood, General," Potter said. "Keep your birds on the ground until my people can give them a chance to do some good. Can you make it to our position?"

" _We're on our way._ "

The line clicked dead. "We need to get the civilians away from here," Hermione said. "Our shield will protect us, but anyone else within a klick of us would be vaporized. I don't understand why they haven't fired on us yet."

"Amhar won't let them," Potter said. "He's on the surface directing his men. I just need…."

He paused mid-breath and simply froze. Verina looked from him to Luna to Hermione, and saw that they too had frozen. It was Hermione that broke the tableau. "What's he _doing?_ "

"He must have stripped every fleet," Harry muttered. "But why?"

Verina felt a small spike of fear when she saw how stiff Luna was, and how a single tear ran down her cheek and caught the light briefly before she wiped it away.

"Does it matter?" she said. "The time has come, Harry. We can't…we can't step away from this. Our son has committed the entire Empire to this battle. I'm sure you can feel the Ori arriving en masse as well."

"What's happening?" Quartus demanded.

One of the soldiers—the General who threatened her father, in fact—touched something on the computer pedestal. The display of the city shrank down to a mere dot on the surface of their world. Verina tried not to gasp at the incredibly accuracy of the display, but then lost that little control when she saw what was happening in the heavens above their world.

The display didn't show dots, but tiny renditions of two massive fleets of ships facing each other. The ships in red were shaped vaguely like open-ended ovals or circles, while the ships facing them had a variety of shapes, though most tended to be elongated triangles or diamond shapes. Some looked like pyramids.

She couldn't count them. "How many…."

"There are currently over twenty thousand ships engaged in orbit over this world," the bald, alien general said. His voice sounded deep, calm and powerful. "Akai'kheb, both forces are landing troops near are area. It does not appear the Ori are making any efforts to subdue the rest of the planet."

"They can't afford to, not while we're here. Where is Daniel landing our people?"

"Ten klicks east, outside the city limits. Fighters and heavy transports are en route."

The tension in the air was so thick Verina could barely breathe. She watched as Potter looked first at Hermione, then at Luna, before turning his attention back to the display. Around him, the air began to shimmer and grow warm.

"Then this is it," he said at last. "Quartus, Marin, please evacuate with any civilians you can when the transports land. I'm afraid the city will not survive. I swear to you, however, that assuming we are able after the battle, the Empire of Kheb will provide unlimited support and aid in rebuilding."

"I…thank you, Majesty," Verina's father said with a surprisingly noble nod of his head. "And you?"

"We are the chosen of the Ancients," Luna said.

"It was always our place to lead from the front," Hermione added.

"And win," Potter declared.

As her father led her toward the back of the restaurant to evacuate, she saw the air flickered into a tongue of blue flame like a halo over Harry Potter's head.

"Good luck," she whispered to herself as she left.


	61. Camlann

A/N: Post 2 of a 3 part posting. Continue reading after this for the conclusion of Stars Alone.

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty One: Camlann**

Space itself burned.

His Divine Imperial highness, Crown Prince Daniel of Kheb, stood stiffly in the command center of his personal heavy cruiser while Fleet Admiral Tsoli Gaspar, one of the few surviving full-blood Serrikan in the empire, calmly directed a fleet of almost twelve thousand ships drawn from the entire width of the Empire.

Facing them was the massed forces of the Ori in the Milky Way, a force of just over eight thousand ships. Unlike the Imperial fleet, which had ships of varying sizes and power, every Ori ship was an insanely well shielded, powerful war machine capable of obliterating even the most powerful Imperial ship in four shots or less.

The Force thrummed with fear, anger and determination. In the back of his mind, he could feel his Aunt's presence on the planet below, and knew that all of his plans were now exposed. Perhaps worse, he could feel his sister in the fleet facing him. If he could feel her presence in the Force, he had no doubt Harry, Luna and Hermione could as well.

There was a very real chance he would not survive the day.

Daniel walked calmly toward the holographic tactical station where his wife Samantha stood with her arms crossed, chewing on a thumbnail. "They've already landed over a million men," she said.

"We're getting there," Daniel said. "We're also providing transport to the local planet's military. They have a standing army of almost a hundred thousand, so that will help."

Their ship, the _Terra_ , flew at the back of the multiple squadron formations that Gaspar had deployed. The Ori, as much from doctrine as just overconfidence, formed massed, two-dimensional firing lines that unleased veritable walls across the orbit of the planet below. Their ships fired as one, all eight thousand two hundred and fifty-three.

With every shot, hundreds of Imperial ships died while Gaspar ordered wings of their fleet to flank the lines sunward, rather than along the planetary horizon which is how the Ori formation spread. Below them, the tactical display twinkled with thousands of troop transports dropping rapidly toward the surface. Included in the transports were all six of the surviving Imperial Knights.

The far wall of the tactical station blinked before revealing the haggard, lined face of Admiral William Green, formerly of the United States Navy and now the commander of the Prince's personal 13th Tactical Fleet—a fleet that his adopted parents had no knowledge of.

Daniel stepped closer, flanked by Sam. "Admiral, what's the word?"

"The Supergate was not as unguarded as we hoped," the Terran man said. Behind him, they could see flashing red lights. "Ten enemy heavies. We engaged and have suffered losses, but at least for the moment we hold the gate. Do you have the activation sequence?"

"Transmitting now. Do not proceed without authorization. The timing on this is important."

Green nodded. "Received. We're moving forward now."

"Good speed, Admiral," Daniel said.

The other man gave another not before the connection terminated. "It'll work," Sam said.

"It'll work," Daniel agreed, though from him it sounded more like a prayer.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Power surged through his limbs. The air shimmered around his body and every thought came through with crisp clarity the likes of which he hadn't experienced since he faced Anubis. Harry Potter felt more alive than he had in years as he led his men against the line of Priors that led the enemy charge.

Overhead, the sky burned with the trails of falling fighters. In the far distance, a burning Imperial capital ship slammed into the atmosphere without shields or control and erupted in a spectacular fireball that lit the horizon like a second sun. All around, Ori staff weapons scoured the air in a rain of deadly energy.

The hover tank to their rear exploded under concentrated enemy fire. The concussive wave of it knocked half the men in their immediate battalion off their feet and even made Hermione stumble, though Luna knelt down to avoid the worst of it. Harry merely ignored it as he concentrated on the Priors who acted both as heavy artillery and defensive shielding for the enemy soldiers.

Behind the Tripartite, battalion by battalion, came an entire division of mechanized infantry. Their power suits granted both strength and heavy weapons as they barreled across the muddy killing field on the western edge of the city. Harry's salvo drew almost all the Priors to the front he attacked, leaving their flank exposed for a mixed force of native soldiers, his Rangers and their precious few Imperial knights.

The seven Priors all lifted their blazing staffs at once and motioned toward the Imperial family to unleash a massive wall of kinetic force that razed the muddy field between them flat. Harry stomped his feet down, braced his arms, and shattered the attack with a grunt. He struck back with a barrage of Force lightning that struck all seven Priors and a dozen or so soldiers behind them.

The Prior in the center stumbled and fell. A second later he erupted in flame.

 _Harry. now._ Hermione's thought came as if his own. He spun, gripped his wife in the Force, and shot her forward like a missile. She gathered the Force about her and struck the left side of the Prior line like a cannon ball, while Harry and Luna devastated the right side. All three finished off the two priors who survived Hermione's initial assault.

Mechanized infantry swarmed around them, falling on the Ori soldiers with the wrath of the Ancients, sometimes simply running over them rather than expending ordinance. The non-powered infantry followed behind to finish those the power suits left alive.

That wasn't to say they weren't taking casualties. Now that the Priors were neutralized, Harry had a chance to look around and winced at the startling number of his soldiers who had fallen in the attack. He'd been so obsessed with his own tasks he failed to take into account that Ori staff weapons were one-shot, one-kill for any central body hit. Not even the mechanized infantry suits could shield against the powerful weapons.

The only reason Harry didn't adopt them was the staff's intolerably low rate of fire. He'd rather have ten less powerful laser bolts on target than one overcharged one.

A wing of Imperial fighters soared overhead, paving a path for the slower, bulky rotor-driven attack helicopters of the local military. The heavy, thumping sound of machine gun cannons ran in the air as the locally made helicopters began chewing into the Ori ground forces.

Not even seconds after they opened fire, staff fire lanced back in response. Fortunately for most of the pilots, the Ori soldiers were not particularly well-trained. More than two thirds of the shots simply missed. Those that did hit struck home effectively. Two of the twelve attack helicopters began falling from the air, streaming fire and smoke as the staff bolts burned through their fuselages.

Even still, the locals gave far more damage than they took before they finally fell back under increasingly effective fire.

With the enemy temporarily in retreat, Harry activated the computer pad on his forearm. A holographic display lit the air around him, giving real time tactical information. It was through the tactical read out where he first saw the billowing fire which consumed the forward elements of his offensive forces.

"Harry!"

He glanced up, brow furrowed in confusion, as he saw a veritable wall of billowing fire rolling over the mechanized infantry. It wasn't fiendfyre, but as he watched the shield of a mech suit flicker and die before the woman inside screamed and burned into ash, he knew it was the Ori equivalent.

He reacted instinctively, summoning fiendfyre that roared out in front of him and dove into the billowing Ori flame in challenge.

The magical nature of the enemy fire became obvious when it coiled around the roaring phoenix of Harry's fiendfyre like a serpent, black-orange fire coiling around the white-orange flame in a column that shot up above them.

His instinct proved correct—the two magical fires fed on each other, consuming each other with equal abandon until both flames petered out. In the path of the attack, however, everything had been razed to a blacked, flat surface. Two battalions of mechanized infantry were gone, as were at least as many Ori soldiers.

Across the blackened plain, easily a hundred meters square, stood five figures in white. The two on either side of the central figure were easily identified as Priors by their glowing white staffs. The tall figure in gold and white who stood in their center, however, was different.

Abruptly Harry felt the air coalesce around him, as if a great storm front blew through and increased the air pressure a thousand-fold. This was his son.

"Hermione, Luna, you should go," he whispered.

Beside him, Hermione snorted dismissively. Luna merely smiled sadly at him. "After all this time, Harry, do you really think we'd leave you to face this alone?"

"You could die," he said.

Luna shrugged. "So could you. He is your equal, Harry. In everything but experience, he is your equal. He carries the knowledge of the Ori, just as you carry the knowledge of the Ancients. He wields magic and the Ori answer to the Force. He is your son. He is your Mordred."

Harry studied the shorter of his two wives. "I'm no Arthur."

"Aren't you, Harry?" Luna whispered. "Because this feels remarkably like our Camlann. And we will face it together. Just as we will face what happens after together."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

Luna smiled at the two of them, her eyes watering. "You'll see. I'm looking forward to it myself. Our own Avalon."

A young, powerful voice boomed across the field. "Blasphemer!"

Harry grinned at his wives and cast a _Sonorous._ "BASTARD. You're living proof of why I never wanted kids. What a disappointment you must have been to your mother. She thought she was going to get her own Harry Potter to play with. Instead, all she got was a glorified, arrogant little bastard."

Even from hundreds of feet away, Harry could see how his words hit the young man.

But then they came closer as Amhar teleported with a roar and a resounding thunder-clap just inches away, a flaming metallic sword already mid-swing. Hermione and Luna both dove away; Harry spun from the wild swing, gripped his bastard son's hair, and flung him somersaulting back the way he came.

With a flare of brilliant white energy, Amhar halted his flight mid-air. "You dare!" His voice cracked, but the energy that blasted from his fingers struck Harry's hastily raised shield with sufficient kinetic energy to cause the soil around him to compress two inches. In answer, Harry launched himself into the air and lashed out with his own energy.

Hermione and Luna shared a brief glance before both disapparated, appearing seconds later behind the watching Priors. The battle for the galaxy was joined.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

"Highness! Planet-side, look!"

Daniel looked away from the tactical display of the fleet battle to see the ship's captain waiving at one of his monitors. With a glance at Sam, he quickly changed his tactical display to surface surveillance.

The pillar of writhing fire was visible even from orbit, rising as it did almost into the stratosphere before it petered out. "What is that?" Sam whispered.

"It's started," Daniel whispered.

"Should we launch the attack, then?"

"No, not yet."

"Why not?"

"What happens when you compress a free flow of water into a nozzle?" Daniel asked.

His wife looked confused, but only for a moment. "Oh. OH! Right, yes, we should definitely wait."

Though it pained him, Daniel managed not to com Admiral Gaspar. The man knew his work, and interrupting him would accomplish nothing. Instead, he zoomed in on where his adopted father and his nephew were fighting.

"My God," Sam whispered.

The ship's computer-aided optics were so powerful, and their ship was at just the right angle to the horizon, that Daniel could see two figures floating in the air trading blows of fire, lightening, and sheer kinetic energy. Clouds swirled around them in a cascade of tornados that furthered the damage done to the already devastated outskirts of a large city.

"I don't understand how they can do that," Sam whispered.

"They're gods, Sam. Not truly human any more. And that's why what we're doing is so important."

Dressed in a slimming dress of the same blue as the uniforms around, Sam hugged herself and stared at the impossible display in fascinated horror.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Tsoli Gaspar, Admiral of the Fleet, stood calmly in the middle of the command and control room deep within the Heavy Cruiser IDF _Hebridan_. A holographic display broke down the various fleet elements within the theatre of combat.

His fleet was taking a pasting. The last report—forty seconds ago—showed twenty percent losses across the board. Over two thousand ships not just damaged, but utterly destroyed. The enemy was taking losses as well, but nearly as much. Slowly, Gaspar's formations were falling sun ward, and the mass Ori formation, which looked so impressive, followed with admirable precision.

The fact that another twenty percent of his ships were floating without power in the void, trailing debris, made it that much worse. His fleet was barely at half-strength compared to when the battle began.

Still he ordered his ships to fall back in formation toward the sun, away from the planet. The Ori heavy cruisers came on with inevitable patience, their pilots sure of victory. "After all, their gods are with them," Gaspar whispered.

On his tactical display, he watched as the Ori line swept past the twenty-five hundred dead ships that floated in high orbit around the world, trailing debris.

"And…that should do it," he said with a satisfied, reptilian grin. He cleared his throat loudly. "Captain Jacobs, please inform our sleepers that it is time to awaken. A giant needs slaying."

Twenty-five hundred of the Empire's most advanced heavy cruisers, trailing fake debris, suddenly came back to life. The massive, triangular ships unleashed a massive barrage of interphasic torpedos, which flew with independent AI guidance systems at almost relativistic speed. Ancient beam weapons on par with that of the Ori themselves lashed out simultaneously, and suddenly the impervious Ori firing line found itself caught a field of overlapping enemy fire.

"All formations cease retreat. Hold stations and fire all weapons," Gaspar ordered. "All captains are to release any hard point ordinance now."

Captain Jacobs, a rather competent Terran, echoed the orders across the fleet. Tsoli smiled with satisfaction as the first Ori ships erupted in white billows of primordial plasma. He had no doubt the battle was far from over, but as the Ori line began to collapse, he knew he had passed the critical juncture.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

" _What is your name?"_

Amhar was powerful. Harry entered battle confident in his greater experience and skill. He admitted his bastard son might be as powerful, but after Hermione's showing he was sure that his skill and experience would overcome the boy's power.

Except that didn't happen. The saber strike that should have removed the boy's head never made it close to his neck, trapped within a field of power equal to anything Harry could have generated himself. Amhar's answering riposte came perilously close to removing his arm before he managed to spin away and disengage.

All this while they flew hundreds of feet off the ground.

"What's wrong, father?" Amhar taunted. "Slowing down in your dotage?"

With the taunt came a wave of kinetic energy couched in a wall of fire. Harry blasted through both, only to gasp as Amhar shot himself like a missile straight into his stomach. Rather than try to elbow through Ori-enchanted armor that could stop a lightsaber, he gripped his son by the back of his neck and unleashed pure lightning.

The armor took on a fey white gleam as it absorbed most of the energy—most, but not all. Amhar screamed and rocketed down toward the ground. Even as he fell, he spun, reached out a hand, and gripped Harry with enough power to overcome his flying spell. He rocketed toward the ground right beside his son.

A last second disapparation was all that prevented him from slamming into the ground at speeds he wasn't confident he'd walk away from. The massive thunderclap of clumsy apparation confirmed Amhar did the same.

" _You have no name."_

Harry hurt; he hurt as much as when he fought Anubis. Maybe more. His armor was the only reason his chest hadn't caved in. His clothing was burned into the skin of his legs and his hands throbbed with agony as his magic fought to heal his body. He could see Amhar fared little better, though his eyes blazed with rage and the light of the Ori.

Staring at the beautiful, brilliant boy that was stolen from his loins, Harry tried to summon the rage which had sustained him for a lifetime. It was that rage alone that let him overcome Anubis. It was his rage that overcame the Goa'uld. Voldemort.

His rage was gone. He thought of the utter unfairness of his youth, but instead his mind dwelled instead on the long life he'd just spent with not one, but two beautiful women. He thought of Kisher Lomet and Claire Jackson, Teal'c and An'hur and Ishta and all the bright lights of his life that he'd never truly appreciated.

He looked at his son, and all he could feel was a soul-deep exhaustion, and a strange longing he couldn't understand.

Amhar, meanwhile, had no problem summoning his own anger. With a roar that Harry could feel in his chest, the Orici shot forward like a torpedo. His arms trailed to either side of him, his hands held like claws, while the air behind him burned with fire so hot it bordered on being plasma, causing the ground behind him to melt like lava.

" _To have a name, one must be strong and unrelenting. You are weak and broken. You have always been weak, and you are weak now."_

Time slowed as his son burned through the air toward him. Or his perceptions sped. He looked into the distance were Hermione and Luna were fighting priors. Clouds boiled overhead as more ships and debris fell into the atmosphere, shattered by the fierce fighting all around.

And right behind his son, watching with a sad expression, stood Oma Desala, the author of all his woes, and the patron of all his gifts.

" _I can sense your future, boy. It's dark—Force knows that. They'll be blood aplenty spilled. But you could be more than just a mere Sith. You could be great, you know. It's all there in your mind."_

Abruptly, from the darkest recesses of his mind, Harry remembered something another wizened old man said to him.

" _It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities._ "

Harry had not given Albus Dumbledore a thought in decades. And yet, in that space between heartbeats, while his only son flew toward him on a crest of fire and death that would have made even Voldemort shudder in fear, he found himself thinking about the first meddling, ancient figure who introduced him to the broader world.

His eyes once more sought Oma. _"It's time, Harry._ "

" _I'm not ready."_ The thought startled him, because it sounded so very much like the Harry of another world, and another time.

" _Neither was I."_

The answer confused him for only as long as it took to realize that the battle he fought was not unique. He wasn't the first Chosen one, nor was Oma herself the only one to come before. He might have been _the_ hero, but if so his was just one of thousands of faces that eternal hero wore. In each battle, heroes fought. Some won, some lost, but always another hero rose to fight the next battle. Each hero wore another face, but the battle never changed.

This was his battle. This was his time. He didn't have to win.

He just couldn't afford to lose.

Time sped up, the roar of Amhar's rage striking with near visceral power. Harry braced himself with the Force and magic and all the will seventy years of life had given him.

He felt his armor's magic burn out the moment his son struck him. He felt his ribs snapping and his chest collapse, ripping the air from his lungs. He could feel fire sweep over his head, fighting against his faltering magic to consume him whole.

They flew backward together, Amhar's arms around his waist in a perverted hug. Harry brought his arms around his son's head, just above the weak point of his arm. "It's time," Harry said aloud. Or thought. He could never be sure.

The totality of the Force focused into his body so fast it felt as if he would explode. Still he summoned it, pushing against the incredible power his son's body exuded, until Amhar's own armor lost its gleam. And suddenly it was Harry's burned, bare arms against his son's bare neck. Amhar screamed again, tilting them down into the soil just as Harry condensed the Force into a powerful kinetic blow that crushed Amhar's cervical spine into dust.

The slammed into the broken remnants of a building together, father and son in an embrace of death, and Harry closed his eyes at last.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Catherine Jackson stumbled, and then collapsed to her knees in the midst of the wounded. Denya happened to be nearby and rushed to her side; two more sisters did likewise. "Holy Mother!" Denya cried. "Are you well?"

Catherine shook her head, startled that she could cry over the very thing she'd been waiting for. Without hesitation she reached into the folds of her robe for the soul stone, and a thought later she stood on an Imperial starship, looking at her brother.

"Daniel," she said simply.

Her brother stiffened and met her gaze. "Cathy?"

"It's done. My son is dead. You have the code?"

"Yes."

"Then end this."

A thought later, and Cathy found herself back on the ground, surrounded by her sisters. A Prior was walking quickly toward her, his staff lit with the fey white power of the Ori. "What have you done!" the Prior roared.

"I felt my son die," she answered simply.

"Impossible! The Orici is…"

Suddenly, the light of his staff died. The Prior stumbled and stared up at the now dead crystal in horror. "What witchery is this?"

"The Ori are no more," Cathy said, meeting the man's gaze squarely. "The Empire has deployed an ancient weapon directly to the galaxy of Celestis. Just as the Orici has died, so too have the Ori. And with the passing of the Ori, so passes your power." She looked to the speechless women around her. "Sisters, we have work to do."

Denya looked from Cathy to the horrified Prior, and nodded. Ignoring the immobile man, they continued their work healing the wounded.

* * *

 **Continue to the final chapter of Stars Alone.**


	62. Avalon

A/N: Past 3 of 3. Here we have the final chapter and epilogue of Stars Alone. For those few who continued to read and review, thank you for your thoughts and kind words.

* * *

 **Chapter Sixty-Two: Avalon**

Armies of millions did not suddenly stop fighting because their generals left the field. Ori-made fighters, staves and warships did not suddenly stop working because of the Ancient weapon Prince Daniel deployed succeeded in wiping out the Ori.

What did change was the loss of the Priors to level the Ori force against Imperial soldiers. Without the Priors to offset the lack of modern orthodoxy, armor or rapid-fire weapons, the armies of the Ori found themselves vastly outclassed not just by the Imperial soldiers, but even by the native soldiers of the planet.

As it turned out, bullets could kill as effectively as staves or blasters.

Cathy learned all this from Tomin, the surprisingly kind but effective commander tasked with safe-guarding the Sisters, all of whom had arrived with the combined fleet. They occupied what appeared to be the planet's equivalent of a soccer field, only a field lined with the injured. The stands were filled with even more.

The lines of the injured extended far out of the stadium, which had become the last stand of the Ori forces.

"The fleet does not answer our calls," Tomin advised her early into the morning of the second day of the battle. "The Priors say they cannot help us because the Ori do not believe we have sufficient faith in the cause. The Imperial devils are driving us back faster sometimes than we can run! What are we to do, Blessed Mother?"

Cathy, who spent the entire briefing using the healing device to rebuild a hyperventilating young man's leg, looked up in surprise. "Why ask me?"

"The Generals are all dead," Tomin noted. "And by your own word, the Orici has died. There are none other to command us!"

Ori orthodoxy at work again. The Priors commanded through generals, and then commanders. Perhaps three figures to command every ten thousand men. None others were given any training at all because the Ori, at their root, did not trust anyone. When Tomin said none were left, she believed him.

"Then I shall command in their absence," she said simply. "Send word that the Blessed Mother requires all the faithful of the Ori to disengage and fall back to this location, where they are to establish a defensive perimeter around this stadium."

The decisiveness at first surprised Tomin, before finally he nodded. "As you will, Blessed Mother!"

Beside her, Denya stood tiredly from her own patient. "Is it almost over?" she asked softly.

"Almost."

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Daniel appeared in the wake of brilliant white light and a deep, gong-like sound. Beside him, Rangers and two of their knights took a guard position.

They were met by Teal'c and Telgat, both looking haggard and exhausted. Daniel did not fault them—he was himself well into his third day without sleep. Unlike them, he was able to call on the Force to revive himself.

"Highness," Teal'c said with a bow.

"Daniel," Tel'gat said. She was too tired for formalities.

"Where are they?" Daniel asked.

"Near the gate." Tel'gat didn't need him to say who. "The Akai'kheb was grievously wounded. Empress Hermione said his wounds were greater than any they've ever seen. It is taking both their powers to keep him on this plane. Do you wish to see them?"

"I need to see about ending this war first," Daniel said. "Teal'c, Tel'gat, I'm afraid that the operation was classified as need to know, but for the past two months I charged a hand-picked team to pursue an Ancient weapon designed specifically to destroy ascended beings. The operation was successful, and yesterday a task force under my command successful took an Ori-supergate and deployed the weapon. The Ori have been completely obliterated."

The two senior leaders of the empire stared back at him with matching expressions of shock. "You mean, it's over?" Tel'gat finally whispered. She ran two shaking hands through her slightly grayed hair. "It's really over? All of it?"

Teal'c response, however, was far more pragmatic. "You did not tell the Akai'kheb."

Daniel shook his head. "Everyone was watching him, Teal'c. The Ancients. The Ori. The Orici. If he knew about the weapon, the Ori would have done everything in their power to destroy it. The only way to deploy the weapon is if the entirety of the Ori's forces were concentrated somewhere else."

"I'm too tired to think about this," Tel'gat muttered. "With your permission?"

"Go get some sleep, Tel'gat," Daniel told her. "I have my reserves coming to relieve your people and get the wounded back. General, do you have transport to the enemy lines?"

Minutes later Daniel and Teal'c sat in the back of an armored transport, flanked by four other similar transports all bristling with armament. In the shielded cabin, away from any prying ears, Teal'c studied the young man intently.

"You play a dangerous game, Daniel of Kheb."

"I know."

Teal'c, though, was not finished. "You endangered the life of your aunt, as well as Tel'gat and myself. It was you who had the gate tampered with to bring us here?"

"Yes."

"And you let the Orici know?"

"Cathy's people did, yes."

A single, elegant brow rose. "You are in contact with your sister?"

"Yes. That's how I know the war is over. Cathy…has paid the price for her actions, Teal'c. She lost her son almost before he was born. She lost her world. She's spent the last few months healing."

"So our intelligence has gathered," Teal'c said. "The Tripartite will nonetheless be unhappy with you."

"As much as my father, I defeated the enemy, Teal'c. How many lives—how many worlds—have I saved?"

"All it took was your honor."

Daniel laughed bitterly. "Indeed. I've finally become the prince my aunts and uncle raised me to be. Somehow it doesn't make anything better, does it?"

Teal'c said nothing.

When they arrived, it was to a heavily fortified line of armored vehicles and artillery, all pointed directly at the narrow line of Ori soldiers that surrounded the battered, crowded stadium. "I imagine they're getting hungry," Daniel noted.

"I would imagine so," Teal'c confirmed.

"Highness, General, we've received no communications or terms, but neither have the enemy fired," the colonel on site said. Like everyone, the man appeared exhausted. "I can confirm that they have almost no supplies. Water and power have been cut off, and our drones show no food stores to speak of. I'm not sure what they're waiting on."

"They're waiting on me," Daniel said. "Teal'c, stay here. Make sure no one interferes."

"Where are you going, my prince?" Teal'c asked.

Daniel couldn't help but smile darkly at the term. Teal'c had never called him 'my prince' before. "My friends, I'm going to go end the war once and for all."

Walking toward the stadium and the line of terrified, thirsty, hungry Ori soldiers, Daniel found himself thinking back to that horrid day when his parents and younger siblings died. Then, like now, he reached out with the Force until he felt the tenuous connection that he shared with Cathy. Unlike then, however, he had the power and training to strengthen that connection, until he felt confident she knew he was coming, and that the time had finally arrived.

The men that made up the defensive line around the stadium appeared to be on their last legs. Their armor appeared dented, filthy and unkempt. Many were splashed with blood—possibly their own from now healed injuries. Daniel, with the runic armor his uncle made for him, must have looked nearly angelic in comparison.

He stood a few feet away. "I am Daniel, Prince of Kheb. I come to speak in peace with the Blessed Mother Catherine."

One of the soldiers with the slightest hint of a limp walked out from the line of soldiers. His face was smudged with soot and his hair was a mess, but otherwise he appeared intact. "I am Tomin, by Grace of the Ori a commander. I will escort you."

"Thank you, Commander."

Behind the line of desperate soldiers and through the wide, enclosed ramp, Daniel emerged onto a sea of misery and suffering. He knew all the Priors on the planet were dead—targeted specifically once their powers ceased functioning. What he saw now was just the cost of war. Rows upon rows of soldiers lay on the ground across a wide field, one somewhat larger than a typical Terran soccer field.

In the surrounding stands, still more sat or lay in silent suffering. Through the lines moved women in white and baby-blue robes, kneeling down along each line to bring healing. These were the Sisters of the Path, whose willingness to heal even Imperial soldiers had reached Daniel's ears.

From their midst a single woman walked toward him. As they got closer, he felt a surge of worry because of her appearance.

Cathy looked gaunt and haunted. Dark circles dragged down her eyes and her once luscious black hair had been cut so short it barely reached her neck. Yet, she carried herself with a straight back and a sense of calm in the Force he'd never felt in her before. Though they spoke through the Soul Stones, this was the first time he'd seen her in person since her exile.

He wanted so very much to hug her. To kiss her brow and let her know that, even after everything, she was still his bratty, precious baby sister. Instead, conscious on all the eyes around him, he nodded. "Blessed Mother Catherine, I am Daniel, Crown Prince of Kheb. I've come to tell you that your son, the Orici, engaged my father, the Akai'kheb, in battle. After destroying most of the city, the Orici was killed. The Akai'kheb was grievously wounded and has retreated with the Vice Empresses. I am in command of Imperial Forces as of this moment."

Daniel didn't need the Force to watch as word spread of the Orici's death. It appeared many suspected, but the confirmation seemed to suck the energy out of the crowd.

"We have failed the Ori," Cathy intoned. Her voice sounded deeper than he remembered. Despite her gaunt, almost frail appearance, she actually sounded stronger. "They have abandoned us."

Daniel knew, without any doubt, that a declaration of the Ori's death would be rejected wholesale. Cathy herself assured him of the same. Her inner circle knew, but the soldiers could never accept the death of their gods. But their gods abandoning them in an alien galaxy for failing to win a war? That was something every person in that stadium could accept.

"The gods of this galaxy are not so harsh as to demand the death of their enemies," Daniel said. Again, he knew his words were being transmitted through the crowds, likely through Tomin's communicator. "The Ancients do not require worship. In fact, except in rare cases they rarely bother with us mere mortals. They are content for us to live our lives and grow as a species. The Ori have abandoned you, but not to death. If your forces lay down your arms, the Empire of Kheb is willing to offer all of you unlimited amnesty, land, and perhaps someday even citizenship in the Empire. It will take a lot of work to rebuild what this war has destroyed, and we would welcome any willing hands."

Cathy made a point of looking surprised. "No reprisals? No executions?"

"We know very well that you acted according to the will of your gods," Daniel said. "The Empire will not punish a soldier for following orders he had no choice but to obey. But you have a choice now. If you choose to lay down your arms, you will receive food, water and shelter. And in time, you will be allowed to live in peace. You have my promise, and the promise of the Empire."

Cathy bowed her head. Throughout the stadium, Daniel could not hear a single cough. Everyone was listening intently. Finally, his sister looked up with tears in her eyes. "In the absence of the Will of the Ori, and in the absence of my son the Orici, all that remains is the well-being and survival of those who followed us here. In return for a guarantee of amnesty, food and water, on behalf of the Army of the Ori, I offer unconditional surrender."

No one cried out in protest. Instead, in a quiet wave that swept through the stands, men and women alike silently wept.

~~Stars Alone~~

~~Stars Alone~~

Daniel found them in a tent near the gate. His own people were already working on the gate itself, which of course was damaged when Luna, Tel'gat, Teal'c and their security detail were rerouted from their original destination.

Harry looked awful and smelled worse—a collection of third degree burns along his limbs that fused his uniform into his flesh. His runic chest plate lay in shattered pieces on the floor at his feet. On either side, looking worn and exhausted, sat Hermione and Luna. After seeing the quiet maturity of his sister, it always surprised him to see how young his aunts looked.

He'd had more than one fevered teenage dream about those two women. Now that he had his own wives, and in fact children of his own who were not so far removed in age to how the two appeared, he no longer viewed them as sexually attractive.

Damn it, he felt like he was staring at his own kids.

"The war is over," Daniel said as he stepped into the tent.

"We felt it," Luna said. She looked at him with a wan smile, even as she kept one hand on Harry's gently moving chest. In fact, she'd linked fingers with Hermione.

"How?" Hermione asked. "How did you destroy them? We could feel the Ori's death from across galaxies. It felt like…it felt like stars dying."

"My portion of the ancient knowledge had information regarding a weapon that Merlin was building," Daniel said. "Even thousands of years ago, the Ancients feared the Ori. When Anubis did not work out as their champion, Merlin began designing a weapon to destroy Ascended beings. His companions at the time did not let him deploy it, but he left enough clues that we were able to find and finish it. The Ori are destroyed. Cathy, believe it or not, is in charge of the remnants here. She's surrendered her forces on this world. I've given her permission and a ship to spread the world to the remaining Ori-loyal worlds."

Hermione seemed to sink in on herself. "It's…it's really over. All these years, and it's done." She blinked tiredly up at her adopted son. "What…what do we do now?"

The question startled Daniel. He'd never known any of his adopted parents to not have an answer.

"My people have repaired the gate," he said after he recovered himself. "We should get Uncle Harry home so he can heal."

Hermione nodded. She stood, stumbled a little before taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Yes, I think that would be a good idea."

"I've had a gurney prepared," Daniel offered.

At his direction, one of his people carried in a heavy, wheeled gurney with a padded bed. Hermione, her hand on Harry's chest, easily levitated him onto the bed. Outside, the gate started dialing, but he was the only one who seemed to notice.

"Oh, we're going to have to talk to the finance committee about funding for rebuilding efforts," Hermione muttered. "Luna, are you coming?"

"In a moment, love."

Hermione left, one hand always touching Harry, while with the other she used her power to easily push the unusually heavy cart. Luna stood slowly and dusted off some dried blood from her armor plating. She walked up to Daniel and smiled sadly. Then, to his complete shock, she took his face, pulled him down, and kissed him.

Not any aunt-like kiss. Full on, full tongue kissing that left him gasping. "What…"

"I first heard of you when I was in my early twenties and you were approaching forty," she said softly. "In an alternate world that we lost when the Ancients played with our fates. I always thought you were such a beautiful man. I never judged Hermione for her indiscretion, because in another life I would have done the same with you, if I'd had the chance. I love Harry, and I always will, but I wonder if a little variety really would be that bad."

Daniel stuttered, utterly unable to reconcile what just happened with the aunt he knew.

Luna, though, simply smiled up with that famous, beneficent smile of hers. Only then did he notice the tears trickling down her cheeks. "I always feared and looked forward to this day, Daniel. The day when you became king. I looked forward because you've just now realized how strong you can be. And I feared it because now you know the price that comes with that strength. Just know that I love you. It was my greatest honor to be a part of your life."

 _She knew._

"Oh Daniel, my beautiful, foolish boy, of course I did." She didn't bother wiping her tears. Outside, the gate dialed an eighth chevron, powered by a bank of almost twenty zero-point modules that Daniel had built in Merlin's cave, recently connected to the repaired gate. "And why wouldn't you? We took your sister away from you. Your world. We prolonged a war that was killing millions every month because…because we were afraid. We were afraid we couldn't win—we were afraid of what would happen after. We were afraid of this. You did what you had to do. You won the war we refused to win. Harry might have been the Ancient's champion, but you were humanity's champion. I'm so…proud…"

He stared, helpless, as Luna sobbed, bowed her head and leaned against his chest. Unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Outside, a ninth chevron engaged and a wormhole exploded into existence, crossing unfathomable distances. Hermione, in her befuddled, exhausted state, never noticed.

"Will you send us to a good planet, Daniel?" she whispered through her tears.

"I'll do even better." Going into this last, most risky confrontation, Daniel would never have imagined his own tears falling so freely. "I'll send you further than any human or Ancient has ever gone. I'll send you out beyond even the Alteran's furthest imaginations. Only the stars alone know how far you'll go, how many new worlds and galaxies you'll see."

"That sounds…wonderful," Luna said. She snuggled closer against him and hugged him. "Peaceful."

"Luna…why?" He couldn't help voicing the question. "Why…this? You could kill me, even now. Why…?" As much as he wanted, Daniel found the words just would not come. All the times he practiced what he would say simply slowed out of his mind.

She stepped back from his hug, cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. "Why formed an empire to fight an enemy, Daniel. It's…it's all we've ever known. You know Harry—he is a warrior. If there are no wars to fight, he'll _make_ one. It's who he is. It's what he is. For your sake—for Ishta and Teal'c, and Norta and Samantha—for all your kids and all the friends we've made—this is best. The Empire has to grow and evolve, and it can't do that with gods on it's throne. Eventually, we'd be no better than the Goa'uld. It's…better this way. Mortals ruled by mortals. People ruled by people. Rule them well, Daniel. Be the Emperor we always knew you could be."

With those last words, Luna gripped his hand and then swept past him. He turned and followed her outside the tent. Hermione stood in the clearing by the gate—the museum which once housed it was destroyed in the fighting and ringed the area in rubble.

"You know, the gate may still be malfunctioning," Hermione muttered. "I could swear it dialed more than seven chevrons."

"I'm sure it's fine," Luna told her as she took her place on Harry's side, opposite from Hermione. "Our son fixed it for us."

Hermione nodded before looking over her shoulder. "Thank you, Daniel. For saving us."

"It was an honor, Hermione," he called back. "I love you, you know. Both of you."

"And we love you, Daniel," she assured him with the absent declaration of long familiarity. "Come on, Luna. We need to call the department heads regarding establishing a reconstruction fund. There's so much to do!"

Luna nodded along, her hand laced through Hermione's as they pushed their comatose husband toward the gate. Daniel waited for Luna to look back at him, but she walked through the gate without a second glance backward.

* * *

 **Epilogue: The Stars Alone**

Lieutenant Matthew Scott, United States Air Force, came through the gate faster than anything he'd ever experienced with SG-23. He rolled to bleed off momentum before coming back to his feet, carbine at the ready as he quickly took in the room.

The space was smaller than what they just left, though thankfully not in the process of exploding, so it had that going for it. Bright lights and shiny walls spoke of something new and in good repair, so he began to suspect he'd landed on a planet.

Seconds later another body came flying through the gate, showering the air with dust. The woman tripped and fell before the astonishing force that carried her. Not even a second after came a second person, followed by a third right on their heels. They tumbled over each other, in fact.

"Alright, get out of the way! Get out of the way!"

Still more came, three or four at a time. He gripped his radio. "This is Scott, slow down the evac! We are coming in too hot!"

Still they came, dozens of them, some in uniform, some in civilian dress. Scott recognized one of the last to come through. "Greer!"

The soldier in question turned while trying to pull someone out of the way of the gate. Behind the event horizon, they felt shocks. "Where's Colonel Young?"

Greer stared back, his face blue in the light of the gate. "He was right behind me."

Not ten seconds later, a figure blasted out of the gate so fast he flew across the room, only to slam into the floor. The wormhole collapsed, throwing the whole room into confusion as bursts of steam shot up from the floor on either side of the gate itself.

Cries of confusion, fear and pain filled the room, but Scott had eyes only for the crumpled, steaming figure that came through the gate last. "Colonel Young?" He ran toward the man, gently turning him over and cradling his head. "Colonel Young?"

Glazed, unfocused eyes looked up at him. "Where…where are we?"

"I don't know, sir. I don't know…what the hell?"

The fear and shock of the crowd slowly ceded to confused silence as a young, naked woman padded into the room. Long, almost buttocks-length white-blond hair did little to cover a pale, lithe body. She was yawning as she walked right by them, completely oblivious to the crowd of dust-covered people that had appeared in the…wherever they were.

The figure padded up the stairs, causing Scott to release the dazed Colonel Young's head gently and back away as the girl padded barefoot up a set of stairs. Under the soft yellow lights of the ceiling and walls, he could see Dr. Rush's shocked expression as she walked right up to him, turned and looked at the control pad for a long moment. Slowly, as if she were just waking up from a dream, the girl looked up from the pad and stared out at the room which was staring right back at her. She turned and looked at Rush.

"Hello," he said, his Scottish lilt obvious in even the single word.

Frowning quizzically, she reached out a single finger and poked him. "You're real."

Scott wasn't sure what was most odd—that she spoke English, or that she actually sounded _English_.

"I am," he agreed. Then, because it _was_ Dr. Rush, speaking, he added: "And you're naked. Did we interrupt something?"

She blinked owlishly at him. Scott slowly made his way up behind her, weapon at the read. All he could think of was that the woman barely had any ass at all.

"I just…it's been so long since we've had guests," the girl said.

"Would you mind terribly getting dressed?" Rush asked. "You're quite lovely, but it would be easier to talk without distraction."

"Oh, yes, I suppose so." The young woman did not appear bothered at all by the fact that Scott could see her bare ass and one pert young breast from where he stood. Until, abruptly, he couldn't. He couldn't see what she did, but in the blink of an eye she went from stark-ass naked to clothed in a simple white dress.

The surprising change made him bring his weapon up, only to grunt as the girl held out her hand and Scott abruptly found himself flying backward, where he hit wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. Rather than fall, though, he remained held against the wall, easily ten feet up.

The crowd screamed. Greer and several other soldiers brought their weapons to bear, but Rush simply held up his hands. "I'm sorry, dear. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt you. The way you dressed just… startled him."

The no longer so innocent-seeming girl turned and stared at Scott with blue-grey eyes. "He is rather cute," she noted absently. She then dropped her hand. Scott had only a moment to brace himself before he fell. Another roll, and he was able to much more cautiously regain his feet and the elevated platform.

"What are you doing here?" the girl asked. "Did Daniel send you? Does he…does he wish us to return?" The hope in her voice was heartbreaking.

Rush shook his head. "Daniel?"

"My…Prince Daniel? Of Kheb?"

"I'm sorry, dear. The only Daniel I know is named Jackson, and he is not a prince."

What should have been a soothing answer made the girl stiffen. "Daniel Jackson. Not a prince." She frowned and then started walking around Rush, going the other side back down to the floor.

The many people, terrified of her display of telekinesis, backed away from her. She paused by Greer, looking at his service patches in confusion. "Who is in charge here?"

"Colonel Young is our commander," Scott said. He started back down to the floor. "But…he's hurt."

In fact, their medic, T.J., was already kneeling down beside the freely bleeding colonel. The girl drifted toward him, and Scott realized that despite the dress, she was still barefoot. "What happened?"

"Our base was under attack," Scott said. "He must have been injured evacuating."

The girl knelt down across from a surprised and nervous T.J. "Where are you from?" the girl asked TJ.

Operational security kept T.J. silent, but the girl's eyes widened in surprise. "Hermione!"

Scott looked around, trying to figure out who she was talking too, when another woman appeared. One second she wasn't there, the next she was, without any radiant energy caused by beaming technology. This one was…dressed in what looked like silken pajamas.

She appeared looking right at the blonde, and like the first woman had long, luscious auburn hair. She looked right at the first woman, but unlike her immediately noticed she wasn't alone. She spun about, wide-eyed with shock, before turning back to the blonde. "Luna! Did Daniel send for us!"

"Hermione, they're from Earth!"

"What? How can…it's only been…how long has it been…?"

"Hermione, they're from Earth! They're part of Stargate Command. This woman here, she has met General Jack O'Neill! He was old and much fatter around his face. Daniel Jackson is an archeologist and Ancient scholar. No Ra! No Kheb! The Orici was a woman!"

Hermione stumbled a little. "But…but…"

Luna, the blonde, stood. Scott didn't know if it was excitement or horror on her face. "Don't you see? Oma did it again! It wasn't enough that they send us so far away that even if we ascended we could never get back, they sent us back to our original dimension! Our Daniel is gone to us. Our…"

Abruptly, she disappeared with a pop.

Hermione looked around the room herself, studying all the startled people.

TJ cleared her throat. "Um…I'm sorry, but…do you have any medical supplies on board? We have injuries."

The woman named Hermione turned back to T.J., startled. "Oh, yes. I'm so sorry, it's just we've been on this ship alone for so long we just…I'll be right back."

The girl disappeared as well, and a second later appeared again with a Goa'uld hand device on her right hand. Scott felt his stomach clench in concern as the girl knelt down beside Young. The device lit up just like the training videos said.

"Miss," Scott said as he approached. "Are you a Tok'ra?"

Hermione glanced up, brow furrowed. "Why would you think I'm…?"

Scott felt a tickle in the back of his mind, but the girl seemed to relax. "Oh, of course. No…I'm not a Goa'uld, Lieutenant Scott. Nor Tok'ra. I can use this device because, among other things, I'm a witch."

Things got even stranger when the blonde returned. She didn't appear out of mid-air, she walked through an open passage, flanked by a man who looked to be a few years younger than Scott himself.

Except, of course, for the fact that the air seemed to shimmer a little around the young man's head. "Harry, this man is named Colonel Young, he's their commander, I think," Hermione called from the floor. "I just healed him."

Harry nodded. Scott kept his nozzle down but ready, and knew all the other military personnel were doing the same. Something about the young man screamed danger to Scott's training.

"Who are you people? Where are we?"

Everett Young's voice whipped out across the room. The young newcomer, named Harry, looked back at the colonel with a blank face. "You're on board the _Destiny._ This ship was launched from the Milky Way galaxy fifty million years ago. The light from the nearest star won't reach Earth for another seven billion years. Who are you?"

Colonel Young patted T.J.'s hand gently in thanks before he stood and walked toward the hard-faced young man. "I'm Colonel Everett Young, United States Air Force."

"I see. What year is it, Colonel Young?"

"It's 2009. You're from Earth?"

"Once. A long time ago." Harry looked back around the group before frowning intently. "I'm…forgive me, Colonel. We've been on this ship for nearly twenty years alone. It's been so long since I've had to…"

Scott tried not to scoff. The man barely looked twenty.

"Lieutenant, watch your thoughts, please," the blonde said. She hovered by Harry and turned to glare. "We are older than we look."

"Who are you?" Colonel young asked.

"Us?" Harry paused to give it thought. "You know about the Ancients, or else you would not be here."

"Yes."

"You know how they ascended?"

"Yes."

"I am a partially-ascended being," Harry said. "As are my wives. And this ship is our exile."

"Exile?" Young looked concerned. "What did you do?"

"We saved our galaxy from the Ori." Harry's smile bore no humor. "But like all truly powerful weapons, the galaxy had no place for us after the war ended. Settle in, Colonel. It's going to be a long trip."

"But perhaps better than before," Luna offered. She suddenly beamed at Young and TJ and Scott. "Because now we're not alone! You'd be amazed what we can accomplish with friends!"

Her smile actually creeped Matthew out more than her power.

What had he signed up for?

 _ **Finis**_.


End file.
